The Lark Ascending
by glasscandlegrenades
Summary: When an American crime scene is suddenly linked to the war against Voldemort, Auror Harry Potter must decide whether or not to leave his own growing family to aid strangers in a distant land. Canon-compliant.
1. The Grasmere

Author's Note: This note may be lengthy, but I want to give fair warning. This is going to be an angsty, heavy story, and there may be many topics that upset H/G shippers. However, it _is_ a canon-compliant tale. It's an idea I've had tucked away for awhile, and was originally going to be tacked onto my first story, Together, but I decided that it was too grand in scope to complete. This story was born of me thinking about Harry and Al's relationship in Cursed Child, but has been greatly influenced by so many works, particularly the first H/G fic I ever read, CassandraCross' _Great Expectations_. It's also largely inspired by the first season of True Detective. The story follows the post-war universe I established in Together, and begins in early-summer, 2005. I hope you enjoy this story, and I will be trying to post updates weekly on Sunday evenings, but please forgive me if I cannot. I also wanted to give a couple of content warnings. This story deals with the three hurricanes that swept across the Southern United States in the summer of 2005 and also will have descriptions of child abuse. Please be gentle on yourself when deciding to proceed. Otherwise, I hope that you enjoy :)

* * *

"I thought you were meant to be on a train to Grasmere," Padma Patil said, glancing up from a report as Harry Potter flew into his cubicle and began rifling through the mess of papers scattered on his desk.

"There aren't trains from London to Grasmere," Harry answered, opening a manila file and shaking its contents out onto the surface. "I'm meant to be on a train to Windermere in an hour, but I forgot to file the bloody warrant for that potions shack we noticed in Knockturn Alley last week."

Padma groaned, hopping up from her desk and rushing over to Harry's, grabbing at the various papers and leaflets that covered the wooden surface.

"You do realize that we're absolutely fucked if we don't get that in today?" she said. "Why didn't you send a Patronus? I could've been searching all morning!" She unearthed the warrant from underneath an old wanted poster displaying the deadened stare of Rodolphus Lestrange and handed it to Harry, who breathed out a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, Padma wasn't finished reprimanding him. "I mean, you could've had Hermione send me a memo or-"

As if on cue, a purple memo shot into the cubicle and hit Padma on the side of the head before falling to the ground with a small _thunk_. Padma looked down at the piece of parchment, and then back up to Harry with a scowl.

"Don't even think about it," she said. Harry tried not to smile.

"Thanks for this," he replied, holding up the warrant and beginning to turn as Padma bent down to grab the parchment. "I'm taking it right to Robards, don't worry."

"Whatever," Padma said from behind him. "Enjoy your holiday, bring me back something good… hang on."

"What?" Harry said, turning back to face Padma, who was standing now. She glanced up to him quickly before looking back down at the leaf of paper.

"'Forwarded from the Magical Congress of the United States of America - Department of Aurors,'" she read aloud from the memo. "What's the MACUSA doing, sending us memos?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "Kingsley and their President exchange intelligence," he answered. "But Kingsley usually deals with it himself. What does it say?"

"'Southern Louisiana: Three children, ranging from five to eleven years of age, have been reported missing by their families since the start of the summer vacation on June, 1st, 2005,'" Padma read, glancing up at Harry. He inclined his head to indicate that she should keep reading.

"'The MACUSA investigation has produced few leads,'" Padma continued. "'The Department of Aurors formally requests that their counterparts in the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain forward any and all missing person files, from the last five years, dealing with children under the age of thirteen.'"

Harry said nothing, processing this information. It was certainly an unusual request, but not necessarily suspicious.

"You'll handle it?" he asked Padma. "I don't even think we've had any missing children cases since the war ended, but it can't hurt to check."

"Yeah, I'll deal with it," Padma answered. "Leave that warrant, too. I'll file it."

"You're brilliant," Harry said, handing the parchment to his partner.

"Yeah, yeah," Padma said, setting the papers on her desk. "Really, go, before you miss your train and I'm forced to bring Ginny in on murder charges."

Harry grinned and dashed out of the cubicle, making his way through the Auror Office and to the lifts. Several people waved to him in greeting, and Harry nodded back, but he checked his battered watch at least three times as the grated door clanged shut behind him and sent him up towards the streets of London.

He'd borrowed one of the Ministry's cars for their trip from the house in Hampstead to Euston Station. As he slid into the driver's seat, Harry thought wistfully about the simpler days before the birth of his son.

All travel with James had to be done the Muggle way, for the magical means of transportation resulted in certain catastrophe whenever the toddler was involved.

Side-along Apparition was out of the question, for the few moments of total compression were so tormenting for the overly-independent James that each time his beleaguered parents attempted the method, it provoked an hours-long tantrum.

Similarly, James had an uncanny, almost magical, knack for slipping from his mother's arms at the worst possible moments, and on two separate Floo trips had dislodged himself from Ginny's grip and been hurled into the sitting rooms of total strangers. The ensuing stress had caused Ginny to swear off Flooing with the boy for good, and she refused to even attempt to use a Portkey, convinced that it would result in her child plummeting into the sea as they whirled above Britain.

So cars and trains it was, and Harry found himself eternally grateful for the existence of magic as he deftly navigated the midday London traffic between the Ministry and his home.

He was both relieved and slightly apprehensive to see that Ginny had already moved all their luggage to the front step. She raised her eyebrows as he pulled up alongside her, James clutched firmly to her hip and Teddy Lupin bouncing around happily around the pavement beside her.

"Forty-five minutes," she warned as Harry jumped from the car and began throwing suitcases and rucksacks into the boot. "We've got forty-five minutes to get this lot on the train, Harry."

"I know," Harry said, slamming the boot shut and holding the backseat door open for Teddy. "I've said I'm sorry, I honestly forgot-"

"Harry, guess what!" Teddy said, clambering onto the seat. "Gran said she might let me go to Muggle primary in the fall! She said she has to talk to you about it first, though. You'll tell her I should, right, Harry?"

"Er- I'm sure your gran and I will make the best decision once we've spoken, Ted," said Harry, who had a sudden vision of his Year Four teacher's wig turning bright blue before his eyes. He turned to Ginny and James, who was reaching out to him.

"Hi, Daddy," James chirped. Harry smiled. The boy had just begun stringing together short sentences amongst his constant gibberish, and his favourite exclamations were enthusiastic greetings to his parents. It nearly broke Harry each time he heard the tiny voice call out "Mummy" or "Daddy".

"Hello, James," Harry said, leaning forward and plucking the boy from his mother's arms. He kissed his son quickly before placing him in the backseat alongside Teddy, who helped the younger boy do his seatbelt. Harry turned back to his wife.

"Are you cross?" he asked her, attempting to arrange his face into as innocent as an expression as possible.

"Ask me when we're on the train," she replied, glancing uneasily into the back of the car. "Doesn't he need a carseat or something, Harry?"

"A carseat?" Harry repeated, running a hand through his hair. "There are at least eight Cushioning Charms on the thing. He'll be fine. What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"My knickers aren't in a twist," Ginny snapped, though Harry half-expected her to stamp her foot. She pushed her hair behind her ear, and once it was off of her face, Harry could see that her eyes were bloodshot.

"Hang on, have you been crying?" he asked her. "Really, Ginny, you're worrying me. What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said, walking around the back of the car to the passenger's side and opening the door. "Let's just get going!"

Harry let out a huff of air. He knew that forgetting to file the warrant had rendered the ample time they'd given themselves to get to the station void, but he was still confident they'd make their train, and couldn't help but feel that she was overreacting.

"You know, I'm starting to think this whole train thing is more trouble than it's worth," Harry began, as he pulled out of the drive. "We could use a Body-Bind on the sprog, and then we'd be able to Floo."

Ginny turned sharply, her eyes narrowed.

"I am _not_ putting a curse on my baby," she spat. "We're just lucky that he ended up with decent people those times he fell out at the wrong grates. What if he'd landed in someone awful's sitting room?"

"Someone awful?" Harry pushed, the corners of his mouth turning upwards as he swerved between two lorries. "Like who?"

"I don't know," Ginny said, turning around to check on Teddy and James in the back. "Draco Malfoy or someone. What if they refused to give him back?"

"Shit, Ginny, you're right," Harry said in mock-terror. "I _had_ heard that Draco Malfoy's become a notorious child-snatcher. He's probably plotting to nab James at this very moment."

Ginny didn't say anything, and when Harry chanced a glance in her direction, he saw that her lips had gone rather thin.

"You're going to feel really bloody terrible if he is," she said.

"Ginny," Harry said calmly, entering a roundabout. "No one is going to steal him. We planned this whole holiday so you could unwind a bit, and we're definitely going to make our train. We're nearly there, look."

Ginny said nothing as they passed around Regent's Park, choosing instead to stare out the window in icy silence.

Happily for Harry, they did make their train. Once they'd settled James with a biscuit, and Teddy was happily occupied with some colouring pages, Ginny leaned back in her seat and let out a deep sigh.

"Sorry for earlier," she said, giving her husband a bashful smirk from across the table. Harry winked and ruffled Teddy's hair.

They spent the beginning of the trip in relative silence, and soon James leaned onto his mother's lap and fell asleep. Harry watched as Ginny combed her fingers through their sons messy black hair. James' mouth turned upwards into a contented little smile.

"Hey, Harry?" Teddy asked. "Where are we going again?"

"Grasmere," Harry answered. "It's a village near a little lake."

" _Hopes may rise on the Grasmere,"_ Ginny muttered in a sing-song tone, her eyes closed.

"Can we swim when we arrive?" Teddy asked.

Harry threw a weary glance at Ginny, who seemed close to falling asleep herself.

"We'll see how we feel then, Ted."

Teddy didn't push the subject, and a few short moments later discarded his crayons and curled up against Harry, closing his own eyes and giving a small snore. He looked so small in sleep, Harry thought, brushing some turquoise hair off of the boy's forehead. He looked across the table to see Ginny's eyes were open, and she was gazing at Teddy fondly.

"Hi," she said. Harry laughed.

"Hello," he answered, stretching out and tapping her foot lightly with his own. "I'm sorry, too, by the way. For making this morning so unnecessarily stressful."

"You don't have to say it again," Ginny said. "I know you've got a lot on your plate at the Ministry." She looked momentarily uneasy.

"You don't think-," she shook her head abruptly before beginning again. "You don't think I'm becoming like my mum, do you?"

"Your mum?" Harry asked. "Not particularly, why?"

Ginny let out a little sigh. "I've just been so high-strung lately, that's all. I feel so overwhelmed, and then I look at Fleur, and Audrey, and Ange, and they all seem completely fine." She bit her lip and turned to look out the window.

"Yeah, well, Audrey's always been a bit of a freak," Harry answered. "But Fleur and Angelina have their moments. I mean, remember what Fleur did to your brother's hair?"

Ginny smiled at the memory. A few weeks after Bill and Fleur's second daughter, Dominique, had been born, Bill had made the mistake of fussing over his ponytail in front of Fleur as she attempted to feed both of their daughters breakfast at once.

She'd replied that she could solve his problem and, before he could respond, had promptly used a Severing charm to take several inches of his red mane clean off. Bill'd worn a hat for several months, and it was incredibly difficult for the other members of the family to hide their grins in his presence.

"James is a tough baby, Ginny," Harry said. "It'll be easier when he's older."

"Will it, though?" Ginny wondered quietly. "He's got so much magic already, and he's not even two for another three months. I can't imagine trying to stay on top of it. And if we're going to send him to Muggle school…."

Harry nodded. If James continued at the rate he was going, they would be seriously in over their heads trying to cover up underage magic when he was in school. Ginny had been adamant that she wanted her children to grow up in Muggle and Wizarding environments, and Harry wholeheartedly supported her, but there would be certain difficulties, to be sure.

"Hey," Harry said softly. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

Ginny smiled and nudged his foot back from under the table.

The train to Windermere was a long one, and the quartet had to catch a bus to their hotel after that. The two boys had managed relatively well throughout the journey, but by the time they reached the hotel, both had become rather antsy.

"I think we're going to have to take them right down to the water," Harry muttered to Ginny as he hoisted a rucksack over his shoulder. "They've got too much energy to sit and eat now."

Ginny grimaced but nodded, clutching James firmly on her hip.

They went to the tiny desk in the lobby of the hotel, and Harry dealt with the Muggle money as Ginny managed to keep the boys from wandering too far. Teddy had changed his hair to match his godfather's, and he and James were trying to get a view of the lake from the great glass window beside the rotating door. Ginny was pointing out to Teddy where they'd swim when an old woman approached her.

"Your boys are sweet," the woman said. "How old are they?"

"Thank you," Ginny answered. "Er, the little one will be two in September, and this one here just turned seven in A-aah!"

Harry turned sharply to see what had caused Ginny to falter. A display of Mars Bars had been set up behind the front desk, and one was now soaring slowly across the room towards James, who was gazing at the shelf excitedly. Harry angled his wand upwards in his pocket and silently sent the chocolate speeding back to the display. He shot his son an exasperated look, but the boy just laughed happily.

"April," Ginny finished, letting out a little sigh.

"Sometimes, I swear he can control it," Harry muttered to Ginny as he met her near the door.

They made their way up to the room in a hurry, and much to Teddy's delight, Harry quickly unearthed his and James' swimming costumes from one of the suitcases.

"Change quickly and we'll head down," he said, tossing the trunks to Teddy. "I'll pack some sand- _oh_."

"What?" Ginny asked self-consciously, looking down at her figure as she stepped from the bathroom. She was wearing a two-piece swimming costume, and the blue gingham make her already milky complexion look like true porcelain. Harry's gaze, however, was drawn to her chest.

"Your, er, I mean, _you_ look amazing," answered Harry with a gulp.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Pervert," she mumbled, but she smiled.

The walk from the inn to the lake was quiet, and there was a tiny footpath right down to the bank. Harry judged that they still had a few hours of sunlight to enjoy, and the spot was remarkably peaceful. Even a hush seemed to descend over the two boisterous children as they approached the edge of the pebbled beach.

Ginny spread a blanket down as the boys went splashing immediately into the water.

"It's coooold!" Teddy cried.

"Harry, watch him!" Ginny called from behind as Harry chased after James. The toddler let out a shriek of joy as his father scooped him up from behind and tossed him over his shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" Harry laughed, holding the boy high in the air before splashing him back down in the water. Teddy was already wading past his waist, so Harry propped James on his hip and followed after his godson.

Teddy began to swim, his hair flashing back to turquoise. Harry didn't mind; they seemed to be the only ones present, save for a tiny rowboat he could see in the distance. Harry, still able to stand, heard a splash from behind him and turned just in time to see Ginny's head reappear from below the surface of the water.

"Mummy!" James cried, reaching out to her. Ginny took a few steps towards them and then began to swim herself, reaching the pair quickly.

"Hello, you!" she exclaimed.

Harry cast silent Bubble-Head and Floating Charms on James before releasing him into the water. The toddler grabbed at his feet, rolling onto his back as he bobbed along in the motionless lake, Teddy swimming along beside him. Harry swam nearer to Teddy, raising his wand again to cast a second Floating Charm. One couldn't be too careful.

Ginny watched her son quietly for a few moments before taking a deep breath and taking several large strokes towards Harry.

Her arms reached to clutch at his shoulders and her legs wrapped around him. Harry allowed himself to sink into her embrace, the only place that he felt truly safe.

"Are you feeling better?" Harry asked her, running a hand down her back. "If we stay out here long enough, the boys will probably tire out and go to bed without a fight… and we can open a bottle of wine, and listen to music, and I can help you out of this bikini…."

He leaned down and pressed his lips to her neck, careful not to breathe in a mouthful of lake water. Ginny sighed throatily.

"That does sound nice," she breathed. "But I'm not really supposed to drink wine while I'm pregnant."

"Oh, right, sorry," Harry murmured, letting his head droop onto her shoulder until he suddenly processed what she'd said. "Wait, _what?_ "

He raised his head to face her, and she was grinning cheekily.

"I found out this morning," she admitted.

Harry let out a wheezy breath. "Really?" he asked, but he could already feel the corners of his mouth begin to spread outwards.

Ginny laughed, and Harry took the opportunity to kiss her, their smiles pressing against one another as they paddled lazily in the water.

"I can't believe it," Harry said, breaking away. "I didn't think it would… I mean… it just hasn't been that long."

"I know," Ginny said with a giggle.

This news wasn't a complete surprise. Harry, though taken with James' newfound mobility and verbal skills, had found himself yearning for the days when his son was small, when he would lay on his father's chest and sleep for hours at a time. The appeal of babies was insatiable, and already Harry found himself eager to grow his tiny family.

He had assumed Ginny would shoot down the idea soundly when he brought it up one quiet night, but was surprised to find that his wife agreed. They had decided to start trying then, but between Harry's busy schedule and Ginny's near-constant exhaustion, that hadn't found too many good times to actually perform the task at hand.

Harry had actually considered suggesting that they wait until James had outgrown this naughty phase that he'd recently entered, but now the stable door was open and the horse was galloping down the lane.

Harry kissed Ginny again. They were giggling uncontrollably, high on their own excitement, but they were quickly pulled out of their revery by a great splash from behind. Ginny glanced over Harry's shoulder and groaned.

"James!" she called, swimming past her husband.

Harry dared not look.

* * *

The boys were asleep in the next room, there was a fire roaring before the bed, and Harry and Ginny were entwined together beneath the sheets, their chests rising and falling in synchronicity. Ginny had tucked her head into the space between Harry's chin and his collarbone, and he could feel her heart beating rapidly against his own rib cage. There were times where he couldn't tell where his body ended and hers began, and the knowledge of the new life between them now only served to emphasize that.

He used the tips of his fingers to trace patterns on her back, feeling the blissful euphoria sweep over him for what felt like the thousandth time that evening. They were going to have another baby. Though he would never admit it to Ginny, for fear of a lecture on misogyny and her own physical agency, the fact that it was his child growing inside her now instilled a certain pride in him that was impossible to suppress.

Ginny gave a little yawn and stretched an arm across Harry's chest.

"I love you," she said softly, pressing her cold feet against his shins.

"I love you, too," Harry said. "Thank you."

"Thank you?" Ginny laughed. "For what?"

"For being you," Harry said. "For putting up with all of the 'Harry Potter' nonsense, for loving Teddy the way you do, for James…"

"I am pretty amazing," Ginny said, looking down to gaze at her midsection. "I'm going to have to write my midwives. I figure the baby'll probably come sometime in February."

"It could be a little girl," Harry imagined, running his fingers through Ginny's hair and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "With red hair and freckles."

"I don't know, I'm getting quite used to being outnumbered," Ginny said, reaching up and grabbing Harry's wrist. "I'm so glad you're happy."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked.

"I mean, I was quite overwhelmed this morning," Ginny replied. "With you working so much, and James being… James. Poor Teddy's already seriously lacking attention, and now we're throwing another person into the mix…"

Harry took a deep breath. He'd been having the same thoughts, even before Ginny had told him about the baby.

"Look…. I've been thinking," Harry said.

"Uh-oh," Ginny grinned.

"Shut it," Harry smiled. "Seriously, though, Proudfoot's looking for a new Deputy Head, and I know Robards wants the gig. He's been pissed for years that Kingsley passed him over after the war."

"And?" Ginny pressed.

"And… if Robards gets it, maybe I could ask Kingsley to make me head of the office," Harry finished.

Ginny's eyebrows shot up. "You'd do that?" she asked. "Take a job behind a desk?"

"Don't act so surprised," Harry said. "I could be home more, and I wouldn't be all over the country on cases. It would be a break, honestly."

"Harry…." Ginny said. "That's easy for you to say now, but… do you think you'd be able to delegate those missions and cases to other Aurors while you stayed in London?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Yeah, I would. What, you don't want me home?"

"I would love for you to be home more, Harry, but I know how you are."

"You make me sound like some prat who doesn't want anything to do with raising his kids."

"That's not what I mean at all!" Ginny cried, pulling back to look at him. "I just worry that you won't be alright with taking a backseat. But if you are ready for a change, go for the Head job." She leaned back onto his chest.

Harry raised his wand and extinguished the fire. "I will," he said.

"Alright, then," Ginny said, kissing his jaw. "I love you, Harry. Really, I'm so happy."

Harry grinned in spite of himself. "So am I."


	2. Brook Hollow

"This is ridiculous," said Harry, closing the bathroom door and kneeling down. "I'm Flooing Ron and Hermione to cancel."

"No," Ginny gasped, leaning into the toilet and retching once more. "No, really, I'll be fine in a moment. It's your birthday!"

"Come on, Ginny," Harry said, gathering her hair behind her neck.

"It's, _ugh_ , it's your birthday," Ginny repeated, leaning down again.

"So?" Harry snapped. "You're ill."

"I'll be fine in a mo-," another wave of vomit cut her off, and Harry turned away as the bathroom echoed with the sound of sick hitting the toilet water.

Harry conjured a glass of water and handed it to his wife, who accepted it gingerly, tipping some down her throat before spitting it back into the loo.

"Please, Harry, you're the only adult I've spoken to in weeks," Ginny said desperately, collapsing against the side of the tub. "I _need_ to get out of the house. I don't actually care very much that it's your bloody birthday. I'd go to dinner with one of Charlie's dragons if that was an option."

Harry grinned, offering her a hand and raising her up from the floor.

"Fine," he said. "We'll go, but on one condition."

"Name it," Ginny replied, reaching for her toothbrush and catching sight of herself in the mirror. She let out a small groan at her disheveled appearance.

"I want to ask your mum if she'll take James for the weekend," Harry said.

Ginny stiffened, but said nothing, so Harry pressed on.

"We can Floo him there tonight instead of her coming here to watch him, then we can go to Ron and Hermione's, and then come back here so you can get some actual rest."

Ginny paled slightly, and Harry watched her eyes narrow as she considered his offer. Ginny wasn't necessarily an overprotective parent, but the Floo did cause her a heap of anxiety, and she'd never left the baby for more than a night, even though he was nearing two.

"Alright," she finally answered. "But _you_ have to ask my mum if she'll take him, and _you_ have to be the one to go with him in the bloody Floo. I'm not doing it again!"

"Brilliant," Harry told her, satisfied. "You get ready, I'll speak with your mum and get James' things together."

Ginny turned back to the mirror with another small groan. Harry left the bathroom, walking through his bedroom, the hall, and finally into James' room, where his son was playing happily on the rug.

"Hello, you!" Harry cooed, sitting down cross-legged in front of the toddler. "How would you feel about spending some time with your Gran this weekend?"

"Gan!" James repeated with a happy smile, picking up a model broomstick and throwing it across the room. Harry flinched as the wood collided with the wall.

"A bit loud, James, for your old man's ears," Harry said, but he couldn't help but reach out and ruffle his sons' messy hair. Twenty-five today, Harry could hardly be considered an old man, but he couldn't help but appreciate the longevity that had allowed him to end, with finality, the war on Voldemort, reshape the Ministry of Great Britain, and make a family with Ginny.

James laughed at his father's touch, and Harry felt that sudden rush of tenderness, the one that always hit him when he looked at James, really _saw_ him, and remembered that he and Ginny had made this little person. It seemed inconceivable that in a few short months there would be another child in this house, another reminder of the love that he and Ginny held for one another.

Molly, as Harry had suspected, was thrilled at the prospect of having a baby in the house for an entire weekend. She'd shooed Harry's head from the fireplace only moments after he had asked his question so she could get the house ready for James.

Harry retreated back to James' bedroom and got together the child's overnight bag. As he was shoving in an extra pair of pajamas, Ginny walked in, holding a piece of parchment.

"Hermione's just written; she says we can come over whenever."

"I'm nearly finished. Your mum was thrilled, by the way," Harry said.

"Hermione said she's got big news to share," Ginny mused, glancing down at the letter. "Oh, Merlin, you don't think they're having a kid as well, do you?"

"Er," Harry said. "I thought they were still waiting for Hermione to finish all her work with S.P.E.W."

"Maybe," Ginny said, tossing the letter aside. "What do you think we should do about him, though?"

Harry looked over his shoulder to see that James had fallen asleep right there on the rug, a menagerie of discarded stuffed animals strewn about him.

"This is perfect, he'll sleep right through the trip," Harry said. "Are you ready, then?"

Ginny smiled. "How do I look?"

She was still quite pale, but she'd combed through her hair and put on a paisley skirt and a navy blue sweater. The effect was feminine and simple, and Harry smiled.

"Beautiful," he said. "Shall we go?"

"We shall," she said, plucking up the nappy bag while Harry gently eased James into his arms.

Moments later, Harry stepped out of the fireplace in the sitting room of the Burrow. He waited for Ginny to appear before walking through to the kitchen, where Molly was standing in front of the sink, peeling potatoes.

"Hello, dear," she said happily, turning towards him. "Happy... _oh_ ," she lowered her voice, seeing James asleep in his father's arms. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," Harry mouthed. "I'm going to take him up."

"The cot's in Ginny's room," his mother-in-law whispered. Ginny entered the kitchen just as Harry took the first step, and he winked at her.

Harry loved being in Ginny's old bedroom. He looked around, taking a moment to feel the relentless passage of time acutely, but happy to revisit all the memories that this tiny space held for the two of them.

"I just think it's so wonderful that the two of you are taking this weekend for yourselves," Molly was saying as Harry trudged back down the stairs, James happily settled in his cot.

"Mhmm," Ginny answered noncommittally, hoisting the overnight bag onto the kitchen table and rifling through the contents.

"Are you alright, dear?" Molly said, peering into Ginny's eyes with a frank curiosity.

"I'm fine, Mum," Ginny said, pulling a stack of nappies from James' bag. "Where do you want these?"

Her mother ignored her. "It's just, you're looking a bit, well, peaky, dear, that's all."

Harry paused on the last step.

"Merlin, Mum, you're hovering," Ginny said with a huff, setting down the nappies beside the bag. "I've said I'm fine, so I'm fine."

"I'm just worried about you, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley continued. "You seem stretched so thin."

Harry tried to throw his wife a bracing look over her mother's shoulder, but she narrowed her eyes at him. They hadn't particularly planned on telling Molly about the baby tonight, though they were only a few days from the twelve week mark, afterwhich Ginny's midwives had suggested it would be appropriate to start sharing their news.

"I'm not stretched thin at all, Mum," Ginny said. "My only responsibility right now is taking care of James, and I think I'm doing a relatively decent job at it."

"Of course you are, dear," Molly replied hastily. "You're a fantastic mother, and I'm terribly proud of you, it's just…."

"It's just what, Mum?"

"It's just... I ran into Andromeda Tonks at Scrivenshaft's last Tuesday, and she was telling me that you and Harry have Teddy almost every weekend."

"So, what?" Ginny demanded.

"So… you are busy with your own child, Ginny, and boys Teddy's age are a lot of work… you seem exhausted."

"I'm not exhausted, Mum."

"Teddy is not your son, dear," Molly said suddenly. Harry stiffened in the stairwell.

"He's as good as!" Ginny shot back.

Molly had no reply.

Ginny yanked her hand away from the nappy bag and placed it on her hip. "You know, I can't believe you. You had seven children and you all but took in Harry."

"My children were older by then, and Harry had no one to look after him. Teddy has Andromeda, who can devote herself to him fully."

"We don't take Teddy on the weekends because we feel obligated, Mum. We love him, we love having him there, he adores James and keeps him busy so I can get things done around the house. If you think-"

"James is down," Harry loudly declared, stepping from the last step into the kitchen. "Ready?"

Molly cleared her throat, looking embarrassed, whereas Ginny had turned a rather startling shade of puce.

"Let's go," she said tiredly, leaning forward and giving her mother a brief hug. "Thanks, Mum."

"Of course, dear, anytime," Molly said softly.

Harry leaned forward and hugged his mother-in-law as well, and he and Ginny walked into the sitting room. He felt momentarily upset that the Floo wouldn't afford them a moment to talk about the discussion between mother and daughter. He took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. She squeezed back.

They stepped side-by-side into the fireplace.

"Brook Hollow," Harry said clearly, and they both watched the green flames erupt around them as they swirled past only a few fireplaces before being roughly deposited into Ron and Hermione's pristine sitting room.

While Harry and Ginny's house was cozy in an eccentric sort of way, with lots of shelves and mismatched armchairs scattered throughout the living area, Ron and Hermione's abode was rather reminiscent of a Muggle furniture catalogue. Everything was varying shades of beige, though Harry knew that there was an attic room painted bright orange and covered in Chudley Cannons paraphernalia. However, quite like Harry and Ginny's house, the living room did have significant storage space dedicated to Hermione's vast collection of books.

Harry and Ginny stepped out of the Floo, though Harry couldn't help but notice that Ginny looked quite queasy. He silently prayed that she would make it through dinner without any incidences of vomiting.

"Ron!" a voice called from the hall. "Ron, they've arrived."

Hermione entered the room, wearing a pretty floral dress, with a large smile plastered on her face.

"Happy birthday!" she cried, as though she hadn't just seen Harry at work that morning. Harry smiled as she rushed forward to hug him first, and then Ginny.

"Are you alright?" she asked taking in Ginny's pallid appearance.

"I'm fine, Hermione," Ginny answered forcefully, just as her brother walked in the room.

"Alright?" he said, clapping his hands together. "Happy birthday, mate."

"Thanks," Harry said. "How's the shop?"

"Oh, good, you know," Ron answered. "George keeps testing new products on me by slipping them in my lunch… other than that, can't complain."

"What'd he slip you?" Harry asked curiously as they moved into the dining room. Hermione had pulled out all the stops; a white cloth was spread across their wooden dining table, candles were lit, and there was a bottle of champagne on the table.

"Er, new Skiving Snackboxes… Diarrhea Delights… Don't ask, okay?" Ron said with a shudder. "We're 'revamping' the whole line."

"Why d'you have it so done up?" Ginny asked Hermione suspiciously, looking around the dining room.

"Oh," Hermione said with a wave of her hand. "We're celebrating, that's all!"

"Harry's birthday?" Ginny said skeptically. "Last year Ron gave him a can of lager."

"Oi!" Ron said crossly. "That was a thoughtful gift! You couldn't get that in London; they only sell it at this brewery in Inverness."

"We've got magic, Ron," Ginny huffed. "He can get any bloody beer he wants with a wave of his wand."

"We're celebrating something else, too," Hermione said hurriedly, trying to disguise the pleased little smile that had made its way across her face.

"What's going on?" Harry said.

Hermione looked at Ron, who nodded.

"Go on, tell them."

"It's quite huge news..." Hermione began.

"For Merlin's sake, come on out with it then," Ginny snapped. "Are you two having a baby, or not?"

Harry smiled. Ginny's tolerance for banter had become almost nothing in the last few weeks.

"A baby?" Hermione spluttered. "No, of course not."

"You lot know we can't have kids until all the house elves have been freed," Ron grumbled, pulling out his chair. "Sit down, you two, and Hermione can get on with it."

Harry and Ginny took their places at the table, and Harry reached down and grabbed Ginny's hand.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I'm sure that you've heard that Proudfoot's been looking for a new deputy?"

Harry felt his heart sink. He knew exactly Hermione's news. "Yeah, I had," he answered quietly.

"Well, I interviewed earlier this month, and I just found out I got the position! I'm moving to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in August." She beamed happily around the table, and Ron reached for the bottle of champagne.

Harry smiled, but he was sure that it didn't reach his eyes. If Hermione had gotten the Deputy Head job, that meant that Robards certainly had not, which in turn meant that Harry wouldn't be able to take over the Auror office. He glanced at Ginny, only to see that she herself was wearing a demure smile.

"Congratulations," she murmured, but her words weren't highlighted with their characteristic warmth, and Harry knew she had also put together what Hermione's news meant for their future plans.

"A toast!" Ron cried, and Harry looked to see that he had filled four flutes of champagne, and was passing them across the table. Ginny eyed hers wearily.

"Er, I can't, actually," she said.

"I thought you stopped breastfeeding months ago," Hermione said, holding her glass in midair.

"I did," Ginny said, looking suddenly as though she was going to cry. Harry squeezed her hand under the table. She didn't squeeze back this time.

"Well, then why can't you drink?"

"Actually," Harry said. "We have some news of our own. Ginny and I are having a baby in February."

There was a moment of silence.

"Oh!" Hermione cried. "Oh, that's wonderful!"

"What, another one?" Ron said at the same time, flinching suddenly. " _Ouch_ , Hermione."

Hermione straightened in her chair, having clearly just rewarded her husband's comment with a well-placed kick in the shin. "How exciting, congratulations!"

"Thanks," Harry said, fiddling with his napkin.

Ginny gave another modest smile.

"We're so excited," she said hoarsely.

"Yeah," Ron said sarcastically. "You both seem thrilled."

Hermione leaned across the table, her face full of concern.

"Was it, er, unexpected?" she asked sincerely.

Ginny let out a little breath.

"No," she said. "It just happened faster than we thought it would, and you both know what a handful James has been lately."

"Well," Hermione said, clearly struggling to find something positive to say. "I mean, it must make you both so proud that James has such obvious magical abilities."

"Yeah, you know, when he's just sent all the food flying out of the pantry because I haven't prepared his dinner quickly enough, pride is definitely the first thing I feel."

Harry cleared his throat. "We're very pleased," he said. "And you'll be brilliant coming over to our department, really. We had just thought that Robards was a shoe-in for that job and-"

"-and you were hoping to take over in the Auror office so you wouldn't be on as many cases when the baby arrived," Hermione finished as realization crashed over her. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Harry said, feeling a rush of affection for Hermione. "You're much better suited to the job; I know Proudfoot'll have you drafting actual legislation. It's fantastic news."

"It is," Ron said happily. "And all around, too. Go on, Ginny, a sip won't be the end of the world. Let's have a toast!"

Ginny smiled slightly and held up her flute.

"To Harry, happy birthday, mate. You've exceeded your life expectancy by a good seven years! To Ginny, if this new one's another boy, he'd better be called 'Ron'! Hermione, may you empower marginalized species across Britain. And to me, for having a solid poo for the first time in weeks."

"Cheers!" the friends cried, clinking their glasses together.

Hermione went through to the kitchen and reemerged with a roast chicken that made Harry's mouth water, and soon enough they were all tucking in to a hearty meal. Harry's spirits felt much raised, but Ginny was still on the quiet side throughout their dinner. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had just finished off the champagne when she spoke again.

"I've had an idea," she announced. "When Hermione takes over in August, why doesn't she just go to Proudfoot to get Robards reassigned or let go? Then Harry can have the head job anyways."

Harry and Hermione both gave dry laughs, though Hermione's eyes widened as Ginny didn't laugh along.

"Well, I can't do that, Ginny. Everyone knows Harry and I are friends… it would hardly be appropriate for me to just hand him a promotion."

"Why not?" Ginny pressed. "He's done enough for the department, and all I ever hear you three talk about is what a knobhead Robards is."

"Lay off it, Ginny," Harry murmured, turning slightly pink.

"I don't see why-"

"It's just not something I'd feel comfortable suggesting in a new position, Ginny," Hermione said, not unkindly. "I'm sure you understand."

Ginny said nothing, but looked down at her plate and suddenly speared a runaway pea with great force.

Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

* * *

Goodbye hugs had been given, leftover food wrapped up, promises to see each other again made, and Harry and Ginny tumbled out of their fireplace just as the clock struck ten. Harry trudged over to the sofa and threw himself down, stripping off his sweater and letting out a deep breath.

"Alright," he said. "I'm ready."

"Ready?" Ginny asked, brushing soot off her skirt. "For what?"

"Our row, of course."

"Our row?"

"Yeah, our row, because I'm still going to be working sixty hours a week with no end in sight and I disagreed with you about Hermione giving Robards the sack," Harry replied.

Ginny laughed. "I don't want to fight with you, you muppet. I was honestly just hoping we'd sit together for a bit and have some peace and quiet."

She plopped beside him and leaned into his chest. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder as she pulled her legs up onto the settee.

"Do you think my mum was right?" she asked Harry. "Do I seem like I can't cope?"

"No, you don't," Harry said, rubbing her arm. She leaned into his chest and let out a small yawn. "I think your mum worries about you more than your brothers because she sees a lot of herself in you."

Ginny was quiet for a moment.

"I really can't believe we're going to have another one," she said finally.

Harry smiled. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked her. Something seemed different with Ginny, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was almost as though she kept inching towards the precipice of misery, only to pull herself away from it at the last moment.

Ginny still said nothing.

"You know… you can feel happy about this baby, and still feel scared, or sad," Harry said quietly. "It's going to be hard… but you _are_ coping, Ginny. I promise, I'll figure out some way to be here more."

"I know you will," Ginny said with a small sigh. "It's just overwhelming sometimes, that it all has to be me, you know? Not just being pregnant, but the nursing and the staying home. I wouldn't trade it for anything… but it's still hard."

Harry nodded, pressing a small kiss to her crown. The champagne, combined with the soft couch and the warm weight of Ginny pressed to him, was making him feel very sleepy indeed.

"Harry?" Ginny asked. "Why don't we take Teddy out for ice cream tomorrow and tell him about the new baby. Just the three of us, like the old days."

Harry sighed. "Fine with me," he said, closing his eyes. "Merlin, no one tells you how bloody tired you'll always be once you have a kid."

"That's about the _only_ thing they tell you, Harry."


	3. First Days and Birthdays

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Harry murmured, easing James slowly out of his cot. The toddler gave his father a bleary stare, his hair even messier than usual, and he gave a great yawn before resting his head gently on Harry's shoulder.

Harry loved these quiet moments at the beginning of the day, when James was heavy-eyed and sweet. He stood still, placing a hand on James' back and feeling it rise and fall with his son's quiet breaths. He smiled, silently turning and carrying the child from the dark room, using his wand to flick on the hall light as they trudged down the stairs.

Once Harry had reached the kitchen, he set James down on the floor.

"Right," he said. "It's Mum's birthday today, so we're going to make her breakfast, and I need your help."

"Mummy," James said from the ground, pulling at his footed pyjama.

"Yes, for Mummy," Harry repeated, setting a bowl in front of James and handing the him an egg. "First, I need you to crack this egg into the bowl, like this." He demonstrated.

James watched him quietly, and then happily slammed the egg onto the wooden floor of the kitchen where it splattered in a gooey puddle. James laughed happily as he raised up both hands and smashed them into the mess.

"Brilliant," Harry said. "Now that you're occupied, I'll do the bacon."

And so he set to work, frying and scrambling and toasting as Ginny slept upstairs. Daylight streamed in the open window, creating little pockets of light on the floor, and Harry gave James a few more eggs to play with. He heard the creak of a footstep on the stair just as he was buttering the toast, and he quickly waved his wand to vanish the eggy disaster at James's feet, and then waved it again to _Tergeo_ the yolk off the boy.

"Morning!" Ginny said as she entered the kitchen and saw the spread across the table. "Oh!"

"Say, 'Happy Birthday,'" Harry murmured, scooping James off the floor.

"Happy birdah!" James cried, reaching out for his mother.

"Thank you, darling!" Ginny said, taking James in her arms.

"Happy birthday," Harry said, leaning forward to peck her on the lips.

"This looks amazing, thank you," Ginny said, walking over to the table and setting James in his highchair. She sat down beside him as Harry brought coffee over. "You helped, I assume?"

"Eggs," James answered solemnly, grabbing a handful of scrambled egg and shoving it into his nose.

"Merlin," Ginny breathed, using her wand to guide the egg out of James' nose and into the rubbish bin.

Harry spread some jam across his toast as Ginny bit into a piece of bacon. She closed her eyes.

"Fantastic," she said. "I can't even tell you how happy I am to be able to have breakfast without vomiting the whole thing up afterwards."

"Me, too," Harry said.

"Still no chance of you calling in sick and spending the day with your loving family?"

"Not likely," Harry answered. "You know I'll get an earful if I miss Hermione's first day in our department. I actually should be going."

He pushed back from the table.

"What, already?" Ginny huffed. "You've barely eaten!"

"It's almost seven already, I'm going to be late."

"You know, there are some jobs where you don't have to be there until nine. Can you even imagine?" Ginny wondered sarcastically.

Harry grabbed his rucksack off the hook beside the counter. "Do you really want to have this conversation right now? Because we can."

Ginny handed James a piece of toast. "Just go," she said. "Have a good day."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. "I love you. Happy birthday."

"Thanks," Ginny sighed. "I love you, too."

Harry ruffled James' hair and exited the kitchen, walking out to the front step before Disapparating. Moments later he found himself standing inside the Ministry's great atrium, staring up at the monument memorializing the fallen victims of the second wizarding war.

Harry entered his and Padma's messy little cubicle, surprised to see that Ernie was there as well this morning, sitting on Harry's desk and drinking a cup of coffee.

"Get a load of this," he said in way of greeting, slapping a folder down beside him. Harry flung his rucksack off his shoulder and picked up the report.

"Shoddy wands?" he read. "What - like the trick ones they sell at the Weasley's shop?"

"No," Padma shook her head. "Not joke ones that turn into something else when you try to use them. These are wands that are just made poorly; stop working at the worst moments, backfire, all kinds of terrible things. Someone tried Apparating with one two days ago and splinched so badly they couldn't even reverse it. Bloke lost a leg."

"And they think the maker and the distributor are the same person?" Harry asked, flipping over a sheet of testimony from one of the victims and sinking into his chair.

"Yeah, and a friend of ours at that," Ernie said bleakly.

"A friend of-" Harry began, before his brow shot up in realization. "Oh, bloody hell."

"Artie Stevenson, a Squib, claims he bought one off Dung two weeks ago," Padma said. "He's in St. Mungo's now after the thing blew up while he was trying to cast a cleaning charm."

"And that's who he's selling them to?" Harry asked, scanning another page of the report. "Squibs and people who've been expelled?"

"It seems that way."

"I can't believe it," Harry murmured. "Mundungus Fletcher, making wands? That's not easy magic."

"I don't know anything about wandlore, to be honest," Padma admitted.

"Well if anyone could do it, Ollivander probably wouldn't have such a corner on the market, don't you reckon?" Harry asked.

"But that's the thing," Ernie replied. "He's clearly using wood from a tree that's been occupied by a bowtruckle, and one of the wands the Hit wizards confiscated had a mermaid hair core. They have all the components of a legitimate wand, so they're capable of producing some magic."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "But they're made by a fucking idiot. Damnit, this is a new low for him. Laundering dirty Galleons and flipping stolen potions ingredients is one thing, but this is going to land him in Azkaban."

Ernie and Padma said nothing. Harry loathed Mundungus, but he hardly wanted to see the man end up behind bars. Even without Dementors, the prison was a sorry place, one where Harry hoped only to house only the Darkest of wizards.

Harry turned back to the report while Ernie quietly sipped his coffee, likely waiting for instruction. Padma turned to the large map that rested over her desk, prodding it a few times with her wand so that a blinking red light appeared over Suffolk.

There was an abrupt noise from beyond the cubicle, and Harry looked up suddenly.

"Good morning!" Hermione chirped, sticking her head past the partition. "I'm just stopping by all the departments, introducing myself-"

"We know who you are, Hermione," Padma said, not looking up from her map. Ernie gave a little snort.

"How's your first day been?" Harry asked, leaning back in his chair. Hermione stepped into the cubicle, taking in the mess of files and memos that covered every surface. She frowned so slightly that it would've been imperceptible had Harry not known her so well. He bit his lip to keep from rolling his eyes as she turned back to face him.

"Good!" she answered brightly. "Everyone's been very welcoming, though my predecessor was terribly disorganized; none of his files or paperwork have been updated since before the war, so the office is a complete mess. But, of course, you knew Payne."

"Er, I didn't actually," Harry said, drumming his wand on his jeans. "I don't think he left his office much."

Hermione's shoulders sagged a bit. "I don't think he was there much, if we're being honest. It seems like Proudfoot's been doing most of the work herself. Still, no matter, I'm here now."

Harry smiled, setting the report down on his desk. He knew he was going to have to gather a team to bring Mundungus in, a process that typically took several weeks at the least, and he would prefer not to have Hermione breathing down his neck for the entire process.

Hermione took another sweeping glance at Harry's cubicle, and seem about to depart, when a memo suddenly shot through the opening of the partition and landed swiftly on Harry's desk. Harry glanced down and saw the MACUSA logo stamped on one of the memo's wings. He sighed and brushed the parchment aside.

"Aren't you going to open that?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised. Harry pursed his lips, and glanced at Padma before unfolding the memo.

"They've had a few more abductions," Harry told Padma. "Same ages, same area. They're hoping that the children going back to school will slow things down a bit."

Padma nodded. "Hand it here, I'll file it with the others."

"Abductions?" Hermione asked. "Abductions from where?"

"Someplace in America," Padma answered, taking the parchment. "Louisiana. It's been going on all summer."

"And what do they want from us?" Hermione pushed.

"Information, at first," Ernie said, hopping off the edge of Harry's desk. "They sent memos asking about similar cases we had in our files, missing children and the like, but we haven't had any since the war, and those were all largely explained by, you know, Death Eaters. So now they just send updates."

"But why?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.

"Well, we're not sure, Hermione," Harry said gently. "Padma wrote their Auror Department, but they only said it's customary to share information on ongoing crimes so we can be on the lookout here."

"Then, Ernie got ahold of a newspaper published in New York," Padma said. "Apparently, American witches and wizards are furious with the government for having no leads on the disappearances. There are Aurors on the scene and nearly every person in the area has been questioned, but they haven't got a suspect."

"So you think they're sending all this information because the MACUSA wants our government associated with their investigation to, what, provide legitimacy?" Hermione asked. "What influence would our Ministry have on their population?"

Padma laughed. "Come on, Hermione, you're no fool," she said. "They don't want our _government_ associated with their investigation. Did this memo go to Robards? No. It came from the mailroom to this cubicle because-"

"- they want Harry's name tied to their investigation," Hermione finished. Harry didn't look at her, but rather began shuffling some papers around on his desk.

Hermione was quiet for a moment, and Harry could almost hear her brain working.

"Alright," she said. "I want a report on the contents of all these memos and any other information about this case that you come across. This kind of international communication needs to be monitored by the proper official channels. Can you have it to me by Friday?"

"Yeah, Hermione, that'll be fine," Harry said, glancing up at her. She nodded, her bushy hair swinging, before exiting the cubicle. Harry could hear her loudly introducing herself to their neighbors.

Padma groaned, banging her head against her desk. "Working under Payne for seven years? Never see the man. Working under Hermione for seven minutes? An entire report due Friday."

"I'll handle it," Harry said, letting his thoughts wander to the missing children in America. He was gripped with a sudden urge to Apparate home and check on James, and shook his head briefly at the irrationality of this thought.

"Come on," he said. "Let's forget the report and go to the Hog's Head. Maybe someone'll have seen Mundungus."

"It's a bit early," Ernie voiced reasonably.

"I reckon that anyone who associates with Mundungus Fletcher has few moral qualms about drinking at eleven in the morning," Harry said. "Let's go."

* * *

Harry balanced the parcel carefully as he Apparated onto the front step of his home. He'd spent half the day at the Hog's Head, and the other half in Knockturn Alley, though neither locale had revealed any information about the petty criminal. Harry'd finally given up around seven, and was now laden with flowers and a rather large chocolate cake.

He entered the house, tossing his keys into the little bowl beside the front door.

"Ginny?" he called. "I'm home!"

There was no answer, but Harry could hear James babbling happily from the kitchen. He walked through the house and found his son sat happily at the table, a pile of crayons and coloring pages in front of him. Ginny was standing at the stove, one hand on her hip as the other flipped a piece of cod over in a frying pan.

"Fish?" Harry asked.

"He can't live off of jam sandwiches," Ginny answered. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah," Harry said, setting down the flowers and pastry parcel, opening the lid to reveal the dessert underneath. He threw James a warning look, but the boy only smiled sweetly.

Harry walked over and placed his hands on Ginny's hips, resting his chin gently on her shoulder. "Did you have a nice birthday?" he asked.

"It was fine," Ginny answered, sidling out from in front of him to put the piece of fish in front of James. He reached out and tentatively took a bite, deciding quickly that he liked it and pulling off another piece. Ginny's shoulders relaxed, and Harry watched as she took note of the cake and flowers.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Cake for dinner?" Harry suggested with a smile. "Maybe with a side of crisps?"

"I can't give in to every craving," Ginny sighed, though she did throw the cake a fond look. "I'll be the size of a whale before the baby comes."

"It's your birthday," Harry said.

Ginny said nothing. She glanced over to James, happily occupied with his dinner, and ran a hand through her hair. She seemed exceptionally tired. Harry regarded her quietly as she walked back to the stove, lifting up the frying pan and depositing it into the sink.

"Are you alright?" he said.

"I'm fine," Ginny answered.

"You're cross because I had to work?" Harry guessed.

"No," Ginny said, lifting the faucet of the sink.

Harry sighed, feeling a sadness sweep over him. He plopped down at the table beside James, noticing the open copy of _The Daily Prophet_ on the table. A photo of Ginny graced the page, and she zoomed in and out of the border on the Firebolt that Harry had bought her for her seventeenth birthday, seven years ago tonight. Harry leaned towards the paper and read:

 _ **Holyhead Harpies Sign Ruth Graham as Chaser**_

 _In a decision that will surprise few, the Holyhead Harpies have signed a five-year contract with reserve Chaser Ruth Graham, ahead of the upcoming 2005-2006 season. Graham has been filling the position of starting Chaser for over two years, and will now be formally replacing Ginny Potter, whose own five-year contract expired this month and was not renegotiated. Potter, pictured above, who left in March of 2003 to focus on raising a family…_

Harry looked up from the paper to see Ginny staring at him. He cleared his throat.

"This must've been really difficult to read," he said softly. "Do you want to-"

"We knew it was going to happen," Ginny said stiffly. "I told Gwenog almost a year ago I wasn't going back, letting the contract expire was just a formality. Listen, d'you mind doing James's bath and bed tonight? I'm completely knackered."

"Yeah, that's fine," Harry said, standing from the table. "But, look, you seem a bit upset-"

"I'm just tired," Ginny interrupted for the second time, leaving the kitchen before Harry could speak again.

Harry glanced over to James, who had used his parents' distraction to stick a hand into the chocolate cake.

"I don't think so," Harry said, gently pulling the boy's hand from the icing and plucking him up from his seat. "It's bath time."

Harry found himself utterly distracted from the task at hand as James splashed happily in the bubbles. The boy took full advantage, and as Harry's thoughts lay down the hall with Ginny, James created a small ocean on the bathroom floor.

Harry scrubbed shampoo into the boys hair, finally raising his wand and watching as a spurt of water erupted from the tip, letting it stream over the baby's head like a waterfall. James shrieked in delight, and Harry took this opportunity to swiftly bundle the boy in a towel.

"Bath over, Daddy," James sighed sadly.

"Bath over," Harry confirmed, using the towel to dry the boy's dark hair. As James emerged from underneath the white terry cloth he laughed happily, throwing his head back. Harry smiled.

"Your mum and I really love you, d'you know that?" Harry asked, tossing James over his shoulder and walking him into his bedroom.

It took nearly an hour to get James to sleep, he was so wound up from his bath. By the time Harry finally exited his son's room and entered his own, he suspected he would find Ginny already asleep, but as he stripped down to his pants and approached his side of the bed, he could see her eyes were still open, gazing up at him from over the edge of their duvet.

Harry pulled back the blankets and climbed in beside her, turning onto his side and reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Hi," he said.

"Hello," she murmured.

"I think we need to talk," Harry said softly.

Ginny closed her eyes. "I'm exhausted, Harry."

"Ginny," Harry said, sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

Ginny sighed and slowly pushed herself into a sitting position. "The flowers and cake were lovely," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't seem more pleased."

"I don't want you to apologize," Harry said. "I don't give a damn about the flowers, I want to figure out what's going on with you."

"Nothing's going on with me," Ginny answered.

"Sure," Harry said sarcastically.

"Harry," Ginny warned.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me, d'you mind if I take a stab at it?" Harry asked.

Ginny didn't reply.

"I know that the news about Ruth upset you," Harry said. "And it's really bloody difficult for me to watch you put up these, I don't know, these walls when you're sad. You're allowed to feel unhappy about deciding to stay home with James. It doesn't make you a bad mother; it wouldn't have been a sacrifice if you hadn't been giving something up that you loved. It's as though you're so afraid of being vulnerable that-"

"'Afraid of being vulnerable?'" Ginny repeated in shock. "Are you fucking joking? Of course I'm afraid of being vulnerable. D'you know what happens when you're vulnerable, Harry? People hurt you."

Harry frowned, but also forced himself to acknowledge that he felt a grim sense of satisfaction at hearing her admit this.

Ginny blinked and leaned forward, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm supposed express vulnerability to my bloody Quidditch career?" she breathed.

"I never see you allow yourself to feel sad, or scared," Harry said. "I know that you don't like feeling exposed because of what happened with the diary, but you were a child, and now… I don't know, Ginny. When we were young, I thought it was brilliant that you were never weepy, that you were so in control of your emotions, but now… it worries me. I mean, you're making yourself miserable trying not to be miserable."

"Solved it, have you?" Ginny asked. Harry knew she was angry, but he couldn't let it go any longer. Everything had been simmering just under the surface since they'd found out about the new baby.

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad," Harry said. "It just worries me, because I'm starting to feel like we're not communicating. I mean, we've been together for seven years, give or take, and we have a baby, and I can't imagine bringing another child into this world if we can't be completely honest with each other."

"What do you want?" Ginny hissed. "Do you want me to tell you that I'm bloody terrified? Harry, I love you for who you are; your sense of justice, your selflessness, but every time you walk out the door a small part of me worries it's going to be the last time I ever see you. I have to compartmentalize, I have to shut that down, because how would I be able to function if I didn't?"

Harry hadn't expected this, and he took a sharp breath as he felt a sudden ache erupt in his chest. But now it seemed that the gates had opened, and Ginny pushed on, her voice low and curt.

"Seeing you in Hagrid's arms during the battle? It blew a hole in my entire world that has never fully closed, because I know that by choosing to spend my life with you, it means that I will have to see you like that again. If that's not vulnera-fucking-bility, I don't know what is."

Harry couldn't help himself; he reached out and placed a hand on her thigh, under the blankets. He wanted to hear her say these things, but that didn't make them any less difficult to bear.

"And losing Fred? I had finally started to make my peace with his death, and then I had James, and it feels like every time I look at him, I remember that it can all be gone in a second, and I don't know how my mum went on after Fred died, because if anything like that happened to James, it would destroy me, Harry. It makes me feel so _weak_. So I'm _sorry_ that I don't let my career, the one bloody thing I have any control over, influence my every mood."

She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. Harry squeezed her thigh gently, and she didn't pull away, so he positioned himself so that he could look her in the eye.

"Ginny," Harry said. "How much you love James doesn't make you weak. It makes you _strong_. Come on, I've told you what Dumbledore said to me... the ability to love is power. It protects you from all of it… from the unknown. I know your mum wouldn't give up a moment of the time she'd had with Fred, even if it meant not knowing the pain of losing him."

"It's a scary power," Ginny mumbled, suddenly reaching out and wrapping both her arms around Harry's neck.

Harry held her, comforted, as always, by the knowledge that he no longer had to face the dangers of the world alone, that they would face whatever life hurled at them together.

"Ginny," he said. "Being a parent is easily the scariest fucking thing I've ever done. Facing Voldemort feels like a trip to the ice cream parlor after the last two years."

Ginny snorted, and Harry kissed her temple, but his suddenly found his thoughts far away, in America, with the parents who would wake in the morning to find their children missing from their beds.


	4. The Scars of Salem

A/N: Sorry for the delayed update. Apparently, getting writing done around the holidays is actually quite difficult. Who knew! Also, I've just realized that the last three chapters have started with a characters' birthday. Clearly I need to imagine more varied events to satisfy my love for beginning in media res.

* * *

"It's bloody brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, watching James soar around the back garden on his toy broomstick, a gift just unwrapped from his uncle. Ron smiled, pleased with himself.

"Yeah, well, I know Sirius got you your first one, and you gave Teddy his, so I reckon there's tradition that needs upholding," he said.

"Godfather of the year, you are," Ginny told her brother, resting a hand on her rounded middle. "Harry, would you look at him? He could be Chaser when he gets to school!"

"Chaser?" Harry repeated dubiously as James flew by the table where his grandmother had laid out several desserts. The toddler stretched out one hand, attempting to grab a cupcake on the edge of the tablecloth. "Nah, he'll be a Seeker."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but she reached out and grabbed her husband's hand, brushing a thumb across his knuckles. Harry squeezed her fingers back.

"Ginny!" a voice cried across the lawn. "Ginny, dear, I can make neither head nor tail of your cupboards! Where do you keep your garlic?"

" _Garlic?_ " Ginny muttered to herself, giving her head a little shake, before raising her voice. "Hold on, Mum!"

She walked off towards the house. Harry stepped closer to Ron, bringing his beer to his lips.

Ron watched Victoire and Dominique chase each other around a tree for a moment, Bill laughing from a few feet away.

"How's Ginny?" Ron asked after a moment.

Harry took another sip from his ale. "She's hanging in there," he answered truthfully. Ginny's spirits seemed to have lifted as she'd entered her second trimester, and Harry had been pleased to arrive home from work the Thursday prior to find her knitting a pair of slightly misshapen booties.

Ron didn't push the subject, and soon distraction arrived in the form of Neville, who had previously been entangled in an enthusiastic conversation with Teddy Lupin, fresh out of his first week of Muggle primary.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone so excited about a computers class," Neville laughed. "I was only smiling and nodding along, but your dad's just cornered him, Ron."

"Bless them," Ron said, glancing over to where Teddy and Arthur were talking, the former miming typing on a keyboard while the older wizard gesticulated wildly. Harry chuckled.

"How'd he manage to convince you and his grandmother?" Neville asked curiously.

"I couldn't see the harm in it," Harry said with a small shrug. "Besides the fact that I'm, you know, a complete sucker for him. He could've told me he wanted to go to school in Nepal and I probably would've found a way to make it work. Andromeda's still quite moody about the whole thing though, she thinks it's an insult to her teaching skills. Guess she educated Tonks at home."

"Gran taught me," Neville said. "That was always the way in the old families, though."

"Yeah, my mum taught us all to read and write," Ron chimed in. "Hermione thinks if we have kids they should go to a state-funded school. Says our world is 'isolating' for children." He rolled his eyes.

"It seems like all we ever talk about is kids these days," Harry said with a smile.

"Yeah, well, we'd have more to discuss if _someone_ wasn't so fucking cagey about the office," Ron observed.

"How has old Robards been?" Neville questioned.

"Since he didn't get the Deputy job? Even more of a total dickend," Harry sighed, before throwing Ron a little grin. "The new boss is a major thorn in my side, as well."

"Watch it," Ron said.

"Nah, she's been great," Harry said, holding up a hand to show his comment had been made in jest. "She gave me a full team to track down Mundungus Fletcher last week. Went right over Robards and everything."

"Is Hermione not here?" Neville asked, peering around.

"Working," Ron replied. "Some mishap at Azkaban has got her up in Scotland. Guess a prisoner's claiming mistreatment or some other bollocks."

"Bet it's Dolohov," Harry surmised. "His sister's got a legal team like you wouldn't believe. They trying to sue him out of prison."

"There's no chance of that?" Neville asked, a tinge of concern in his voice.

"Don't worry about it," Harry answered earnestly. "You know as well as I that he's got about six life sentences stacked against him."

Neville was prevented from further comment by a loud crack that sounded around Harry and Ginny's garden. Hermione appeared from thin air just beside Audrey, who jumped in surprise.

"Sorry, sorry!" Hermione cried, patting Audrey absentmindedly on the arm. "I can't believe I'm so late."

"Aunt Hermy!" James squealed, running out from behind a flutterby bush, his cousin Fred trailing behind him.

"Happy birthday!" Hermione laughed, bending down to kiss James on the cheek and bringing Fred into a swift hug. "Did you like your broomstick, dear?"

"Yes!" James proclaimed, giving his aunt a wicked grin before deciding that he had more important work to do and sauntering off.

"There you are!" a voice called from the kitchen door, and Harry turned to see Ginny step out into the garden, her mother following closely behind. Harry could tell just from his mother-in-law's expression that Molly was in a great state of agitation.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said again. "I was speaking with the Wizarding rights people for hours! Death Eaters complaining about the conditions in Azkaban, of all things. Oh, it just boils my blood!"

"It's fine," Ginny said with a wave of her hand. "You're here now."

"Did you find the garlic?" Harry asked her.

"We don't have any," Ginny said. "But now Mum's gone and reorganized all of our cupboards."

"Brilliant," breathed Harry, who had a hard enough time finding things in his and Ginny's cramped kitchen.

Ron chuckled, but Hermione still looked rather flustered.

"Can I speak with you for a moment?" she asked Harry, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Harry gave a dry laugh.

"It's Saturday, Hermione," he said, before realizing she was serious. Ron and Neville glanced at each other, eyebrows raised, clearly trying to hide their smiles. Harry threw them a dark look before grabbing Hermione's wrist and pulling her to the other side of the large table where James' birthday treats had been displayed.

Harry met his friend's steady gaze. "Look, please don't make me talk work on a Saturday. Ginny'll kill me; I was in the office for nearly thirteen hours yesterday, it's James' birthday party, I honestly don't give a damn about the conditions in Azkaban at this poi-"

"It's not about that," Hermione interrupted, crossing her arms across her chest.

"What, then?" Harry asked.

"Have you been paying attention to Katrina?"

" _Who_?"

"Not who," Hermione said. "Hurricane Katrina."

Harry gave a little huff. "You know you're the only one who watches the Muggle news, Hermione, just come out with it."

"There's no need for you to be so short with me. It was a hurricane that hit the Gulf of Mexico ten days ago. It's been a terrible disaster, the American Muggle government is completely negligent; the Muggles don't have access to shelter, or healthcare, or clean water-"

Harry frowned. "That's horrible."

"It is," Hermione agreed, biting her lip. Harry followed her gaze across the lawn, where they quietly watched James and Fred attempt to climb a low-hanging tree branch. Hermione cleared her throat. "But, look, the thing that's really concerning is that this storm has affected nearly the same region that those children have been disappearing from."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. It was unlike wizards to be affected by natural disasters. There had been a terrible heatwave the summer that James was born, and Harry and Ginny had combated the days easily with Cooling Charms.

"I don't understand," he said.

"I've been speaking with the head of the American Auror Office all afternoon," Hermione said. "I've had the fireplace in my office connected to the International Floo Network. They've had four Aurors on the ground in Southern Louisiana, where those children were being reported missing."

"That's a small team," Harry noted, running his fingers along the edge of the tablecloth. "I thought the Americans were angry that the MACUSA hadn't been doing more."

"They are," Hermione said, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "At least, that's the impression I've gotten from the Auror I spoke with."

"I really don't see why this couldn't wait until Monday, Hermione," Harry pushed.

"All four of the Aurors are missing," Hermione said bluntly. "They haven't been heard from since the night before the storm."

This stopped Harry's playing with the tablecloth entirely.

"All of them?" he asked. "Really?"

Hermione looked to be in danger of chewing her lip clean off. She nodded.

"All of them," she confirmed. "Since the 29th."

Harry felt his brow furrow as he tried to think of a justification for four missing Aurors. He assumed that the MACUSA, like the British Ministry, kept thorough tabs on each of its agents; when Harry, Ernie, and Padma had vanished in their hunt for the Lestrange brothers several years ago, it had only taken a few hours to track them down.

"Well, they must have search parties," Harry said, giving a little shrug.

"They do," Hermione said. "It just… it sounds like they really don't know what to do, Harry."

"Look, Hermione, what is it that you want?" Harry sighed. "It's so far out of my jurisdiction that I wouldn't even know how to begin investigating. I mean, it's terrible-"

"I know that," Hermione said. "I just thought you'd appreciate knowing what was going on."

Harry gave a small nod. "Thanks, then," he said curtly. "There's sandwiches in the kitchen if you're hungry."

"Right," said Hermione, glancing back towards the party.

Harry gave her a little pat on the shoulder that did nothing to stifle the awkwardness between them. Harry went over to Ginny, who was standing over the cake with a box of matches.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Nothing," Harry said. "Let's get on with it."

She narrowed her eyes, but struck the matches and, soon enough, all of the Weasleys, Hagrid, Teddy and Andromeda, Hannah and Neville, and Luna were singing 'Happy Birthday' to a very delighted James.

Harry and Ginny helped their son blow out the candles, and though Harry had been tasked with handing out slices of cake to a suddenly-ravenous gaggle of children, he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder several times, to James' bedroom window. He let himself imagine waking in the morning to find James gone from his bed. The terror of it engulfed him for a brief moment, and Harry whipped his head back towards the garden, ensuring that James was still standing happily at his mother's side.

Harry wondered how these abductions could've gone on for so long, as he absentmindedly handed a second piece of cake to Victoire. Did these parents think that their children were immune from danger, simply by virtue of how loved they were? Were they taking necessary steps to protect their homes? Harry hadn't been paying enough attention to the reports, he knew, but Hermione's revelation about the four missing Aurors had sent his thoughts running wild. What kind of monster were they up against?

Harry was suddenly itching to get back into the office, terribly curious about a case that he'd paid little attention to in the last three months. He wanted to review the exact information requests that Padma had filed away. He glanced again towards the house, wracking his brain as he mentally went through the catalogue of books held in his cramped study. Going to the library in times of crisis was certainly Hermione's trait, but Harry was suddenly eager to see if his collection housed any texts on American wizards, or even less likely, young witches and wizards. He had no idea about anything, anything at all, relating to American politics, society, or culture.

He glanced back to the party. James' slice of cake had ended up smashed across most of his face, and Teddy was now chasing him as he shrieked happily. Ginny was again distracted by her mother, and so Harry made for the back door, emerging into the blissfully quiet kitchen.

It was late afternoon, and the setting sun was casting dark shadows across the whitewashed walls of their home. Harry passed silently through the house, gently pushing open the door to his study.

The books had been accumulated haphazardly over the last few years, and now amounted to all of Harry and Ginny's old school texts, a rather sizable collection of Quidditch histories, old crime anthologies required for Harry's Auror training, and various other pages gifted or bought. Harry couldn't pretend to have read even half the books here, sadly, and he wasn't even sure what topics he hoped to research in effort to quell his rambling mind.

He decided to look for titles relating to 'America'; this seemed like the broadest, and possibly most rewarding method of search, giving him at least a geographical and historical point of reference. He scanned the spine of each book, looking for anything that may be helpful, until he came across _The Scars of Salem: Essays on the Witch Trials of 1692._

It would have to do.

Pulling the dusty volume from the shelf, Harry flipped it open to a page at random, sinking into his desk chair as he began to read.

 _The two girls, aged nine and eleven, were reported to have screamed, thrown things about the room, uttered strange sounds, crawled under furniture, and contorted themselves into strange positions._

Harry flipped through the pages, reading the essays and accounts of the witch trials as the room around him grew darker and darker. From what he could gather, American wizards lived quite closely to their Muggle counterparts, until a group of young children started accusing women in their community of being witches. Many of the accusations were false, but twenty people, some witches and some No-Majs, the American equivalent of Muggles, were executed.

Harry poured over the essays, each describing the lasting influence of the trial on American wizarding and Muggle relations. He found himself particularly engrossed in one essay, describing how, before the advent of the MACUSA, a vigilante group of wizards called Scourers roamed North America as bounty hunters, killing and torturing for payment. This historian hypothesized that at least two of the judges of the Salem Witch Trials were Scourers, passing false sentences to settle personal vendettas. Once the MACUSA had been established, many Scourers married into Muggle families to hide evidence of their actions.

The author of this essay suggested that the presence of Scourers in Muggle family trees made it more difficult to conceal the existence of magic from American Muggles. Harry turned away from the essay to look at an image of several men, dressed all in black, harassing a wizarding family.

"You sort-of abandoned me out there," a voice said quietly from over his shoulder.

Harry jumped, turning sharply, but it was only Ginny, standing in the door of his study wearing an old t-shirt. Harry blinked several times before glancing out the window, only seeing outlines and shapes of the garden beyond in the darkness of night. He looked down at his watch to see that it was nearly nine.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"It's alright," Ginny said. "My parents helped me tidy up, and Hermione got James down."

Harry didn't say anything, the image of a Scourer brandishing his wand in a young girl's terrified face still occupying most of the space in his mind.

"Hannah looked pretty today," Ginny said, running a finger along the spine of one of the books lining the shelves.

"Hannah?" Harry asked absentmindedly, turning a page and glancing back down to the book in his lap. He was confronted with an illustration of a young child lying on the ground, a wooden board laid across his back as a sinister looking man laid heavy stones across the plank. Harry slammed the book shut, feeling bile rise in his throat.

"I mean, that little yellow dress, and she's so blonde," Ginny voiced, almost mournful.

Harry took a deep breath, trying not to think of the child in the illustration. Ginny turned away from the shelf, her gaze piercing into his. Harry realized he was meant to reply.

"What?" he asked. "Hannah Abbott, you mean? Neville's Hannah?"

"You didn't notice her?" Ginny asked.

"Notice her?" Harry repeated. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Ginny sighed. "Nothing," she said, smoothing down the front of her shirt. "Why'd you come back here, anyways?"

Harry glanced back towards the books scattered across his desk, wracking his mind momentarily in an effort to come up with some reason, some excuse that would pull him away from James' party. But as he turned back towards Ginny, and took in the sight of her, standing before him, her brow creased in concern, made it impossible for him to deflect with half-truths.

"Er - I was trying to research something," he admitted.

"Research what?" Ginny asked, stepping closer to him.

"This crime we've been receiving intelligence on. Someone in America is abducting a bunch of children, and the American government, the MACUSA, has no leads. Four of the Aurors disappeared last week when a hurricane hit the area."

Ginny's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Don't get me wrong, that sounds horrible but, erm, why is it even on your radar?" she asked.

"They've been updating us on the case regularly," Harry said. "First they wanted any similar case files from our end, not unusual in this kind of crime, but now they're just sending along information. Ernie and Padma think they want my name tied to their investigation because the American press doesn't think the government is doing enough to find the children."

"So you came in here to read a book on the Salem Witch Trials?" asked Ginny, peering around to read the spine of the book. "What's that got to do with it?"

"Well, I don't have much else to go off, do I? Unless you preferred I run off to the Ministry in the middle of James' party?" Harry asked.

"You may as well have," Ginny shot back. "You completely vanished!"

"I've said I was sorry," Harry sighed. "It's just, this case has got me worried, Ginny. I can't really describe it."

"It's not here, though," Ginny said, almost in question, rubbing a hand across the slight swell of her stomach. "Why worry when it's happening so far away?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno," he answered truthfully.

They were both quiet for a moment. Harry closed the book, throwing his wife a sly smile.

"Hannah Abbott?" he asked. "What are you like?"

She rolled her eyes. "I know, I know, this baby's just making me absolutely mental."

"Thought I'd left the party to pack my bags so I could run off with Hannah Abbott?" Harry laughed.

"Don't joke!" Ginny said, her cheeks reddening. "Look how fat I am already! Everything's already stretched out from James, and I'm moody, and I've got all these zits! Lots of husbands leave their wives for prettier, younger witches…"

"Well, Hannah's older than you," Harry said seriously.

Ginny swatted his shoulder, groaning.

"I've already admitted I'm mental, can we just leave it?" she said.

Harry said nothing, instead setting the volume on the Witch Trials gently on his desk. He stood, walked over to Ginny's place by the bookshelf. She gazed up at him as he placed one hand on the small of her back before winding the other in her long, red hair.

"You _are_ mental," Harry murmured, bringing his lips down to her jaw. "You're also the most beautiful person I've ever seen, and every time you laugh, or tuck your hair behind your ear, or smile at me, I feel like a randy sixteen-year-old trying to catch your attention on the Quidditch pitch."

Ginny snorted. "You should write love sonnets."

"And now," Harry said, pulling back and glancing down suggestively. "Well, I don't know if anyone has told you but, erm, your tits these last few months? Yeah, they've gotten absolutely massive. Hannah Abbott doesn't hold a candle to you."

Ginny laughed out loud this time. "Pervert," she said, but she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his, and the missing American Aurors were swept quickly from Harry's brain.


	5. Gottlieb and Pierce

A/N: I wanted to post one last update before making this announcement, but I have decided to put this story on an indefinite hiatus. I do plan on returning to it sometime in the next few months, but right now I'm feeling enormously discouraged with my writing. The plot feels contrived, unoriginal, and convoluted. I feel like I'm losing track of my characters. I do have a few other ideas for stories up my sleeve, but I just need to take a step back for the foreseeable future. Thank you for understanding.

* * *

"Just… there! D'you feel that?" said a muffled voice, rousing Harry from a particularly peaceful sleep. "That's your little brother or sister." Harry heard James' giggle, and he rolled over to face the back of the boy's tiny head.

Ginny glanced up at him, only her eyes visible from above the duvet, before looking back down to James.

"They're saying hello to you," she murmured, before looking back to Harry. "Good morning."

Harry blinked sleepily and yawned in reply, reaching over James to place a gentle hand on Ginny's stomach. He was rewarded with three swift little kicks straight to his palm, and he sighed contentedly.

"When did he come in here?" Ginny asked, glancing at James.

"Just after two," Harry replied.

"We have to bring him back to bed when he does that," Ginny said. "He'll sleep with us until he goes to Hogwarts if you keep letting him stay."

"What would be so wrong with that?" Harry said, moving his hand from Ginny's stomach to wrap it around James' chunky little belly. He brought the toddler into his chest, tickling him gently. James shrieked with laughter and squirmed, trying to get away.

Ginny suddenly sat up a little straighter, reaching out a hand to beckon towards the door.

"Come over," she commanded softy.

Harry raised his own head to see Teddy standing quietly in the doorway, wearing an expression that was both hopeful and reserved. Teddy walked slowly over to the bed, his hair turning jet black as he moved through the room.

Teddy clambered onto Ginny's side of the bed, flopping down dramatically and raising an eyebrow up to her.

Ginny swiftly accepted the challenge, bringing both hands out from the duvet and tickling Teddy across his stomach. He laughed happily, kicking Harry's leg as he tried to get away.

"Oi!" Harry said authoritatively. "He's much too old for you to be tickling him like that!"

Ginny and Teddy both froze.

Harry paused for a moment.

"You have to go for his underarms," he said simply.

Ginny laughed and Teddy shrieked as Harry leaned forward, reaching across his godson's body.

"No!" Teddy cried, squeezing his arms against his chest. "No, please!"

James squealed in delight, and after a few moments the four of them were spread across the duvet, giggling mischievously.

"Alright," Harry said. "Breakfast?"

"Want eggies," James answered. Ginny snorted.

Harry sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Ginny stood, reaching down for James and bringing him to her hip.

"I wish I lived here all the time, not just some of the time."

Harry turned sharply. Teddy was still laying across the bed, staring at the ceiling, his hair turned back to its standard turquoise.

Ginny gave Harry a meaningful look, before clutching James more firmly to her side and walking from the room.

Harry gave a little laugh and reached over to give Teddy's leg a shake.

"Don't you think your gran would miss you?" he asked.

Teddy narrowed his eyes.

"None of Mrs. Weasley's grandchildren live with her, and she doesn't seem too sad about it," he answered sullenly.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, but if you left, your gran would be all alone. That doesn't seem very fair to her."

Teddy sat up suddenly, smacking the top of his head into Harry's nose. Harry swore loudly, but Teddy didn't seem to notice as his eyes flashed angrily.

"What's not fair is that James gets to live with his mum and dad and I don't!" he said.

Harry closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You're right, Teddy," he said. "It's not fair."

Harry felt a rush of frustration surge through him. He hadn't expected to be having _this_ conversation at _this_ moment. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Teddy was staring at Harry silently, his own eyes wet. Harry doubted the tears were from their collision. He sighed softly.

"It's not fair," Harry repeated. "And it's alright for you to feel angry about it, or sad. And, if you'd like, I can talk to your gran about you spending more time here. But Teddy, Ginny and I aren't your mum and dad. You have a mum and dad."

"But why aren't they here?" Teddy asked. "Why does everyone else have a mum and dad _with_ them?"

Harry looked at Teddy, trying to imagine what he would've wanted to hear about his parents at seven years old.

"You know how your gran has told you that your mum and dad died in a big battle?" Harry asked.

Teddy nodded solemnly.

"And how that battle was where Voldemort died, and the war ended?"

"Yeah," Teddy said.

"Well, imagine that we hadn't fought that battle. Voldemort would still be here, and you and your mum and your dad would have to live in hiding all the time, so he couldn't find you. You'd never leave Gran's house; not to get ice cream, not to go to the Burrow. I would still have to be hiding from Voldemort, too, so we'd never get to see each other, and I wouldn't have been able to marry Ginny, and we wouldn't have had James…."

Harry trailed off for a moment, before giving his head a brief shake and looking back to Teddy.

"Your mum and dad wanted you to have a happy life, where you didn't have to feel afraid all the time, so they went to fight, just like me, and Ginny's family. And some people died there, and that's not fair. But your mum and dad fought so you could be safe. D'you understand?"

Teddy still looked a bit skeptical, but he nodded again. Harry sighed.

"Weren't you going to help me rake the leaves today?" he asked Teddy.

"Not until we've had breakfast, of course!" Teddy said.

Harry smacked his head. "Of course! How could I forget breakfast?!"

Teddy giggled as Harry lifted him off the bed, and they trudged down together to the kitchen.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at Harry as he sat down at their long table, but he merely shook his head.

They had just begun eating when there was a sudden whoosh and green flames sprung into the fireplace. James cackled happily as Harry turned to see Padma's head appear in the flames.

"Robards needs you to come in," she said solemnly.

Ginny made a small, angry sound, and Harry leaned closer to the fireplace, shaking his head.

"No," he said. "Absolutely not."

"We found the place where Dung is making those wands," Padma said. "The raid has to be tonight, before he realizes we're on his tail."

Harry sighed. It was his team assigned to Dung, and if Robards had decided that the raid would be tonight, there was little Harry could do to get out of leading it. He glanced to Ginny, whose lips were thin, before turning back to Padma, gazing at him expectantly from the hearth.

"Look, just have Ernie get a tactical plan in place, alright? I'll be there in a few hours," he said.

Padma seemed as though she wanted to object, but Harry silenced her with his sternest look.

"Fine," she said, vanishing as quickly as she had appeared.

"Sorry," Harry said gruffly, taking a bite of toast. He dared not look up at Ginny.

"It's fine," she answered mildly.

Teddy, who had shoved down his breakfast at record pace, pushed back from the table.

"Last one out's a rotten dragon's egg!" he shouted, running for the door to the garden.

James made an indignant sound and struggled down from his spot beside Ginny. Harry sighed and stood as well, following the boys into the yard.

"Go on, Harry!" Teddy said, standing expectantly beside the rope swing.

Harry raised his wand lazily, and James and Teddy shrieked excitedly as the autumn leaves rose from the ground and circled around their headings, raining back down in neat piles.

"Throw me in!" Teddy cried.

Harry thought of the Marauders with a hint of nostalgia as he cast a silent _Levicorpus_ on Teddy, who grinned in delight as he was raised up by one ankle over the largest of piles. Harry let him hang for only a second, before flicking his wand again and watching the child fall happily into the leaves, scattering them anywhere.

"Me!" James shouted, running forward.

The fun had been going on for over an hour when Ginny came to the door.

"Harry?" she called, her voice sounding slightly strangled. "Will you come here?"

Harry looked up from a particularly tall leaf pile, under which James was buried several feet deep.

"Sure," he said, turning to Teddy. "Make sure he stays put."

Teddy nodded seriously, and Harry turned, walking over to Ginny.

"You alright?" he asked. She looked a bit pale, and she bit her lip nervously.

"I'm bleeding," she said in a near-whisper.

"What?" Harry asked, giving her a quick glance-over. It took a moment for her words to register. " _Oh._ "

"Not a lot," she said in a rush. "I just noticed in the loo, but…"

"Right," Harry said, running a hand through his hair as a surge of panic rushed through him. "Right, you should probably lie down. I'll sort this lot."

"Lie down?" Ginny said, looking dubious.

"Well, you shouldn't be on your feet, should you? I'll write the midwives once I've got them inside." Harry gestured over his shoulder to where Teddy and James were still presumably playing in the leaf pile.

"Oh," Ginny said, still wearing an expression of vague mistrust. "Alright, then."

Harry could feel his heart beating rapidly as he managed to shuffle the boys through the backdoor and back into the kitchen, where an old tin of biscuits quickly became lunch as Harry sat beside Teddy on the long bench in their kitchen and scribbled out a note to Ginny's midwives. He tied the letter to their owl, Swanhild, and watched her soar over the trees of the back garden for a quiet moment.

Teddy looked up in surprise from his plate as Harry turned back into the kitchen and stuck his head into the hearth with a bit of Floo powder.

"Auror Office," he said clearly, and he found himself staring at the carpeted floors of his cubicle, Padma's robed legs rushing in front of him.

She made a noise of surprise and dropped to her knees.

"You'd better be ready," she said. "Ernie's got the team together, we're just waiting on-"

"I'm not going," Harry said. "Something personal's come up."

"Robards said-"

"I don't care," Harry said shortly. "I'll deal with him Monday, and you're perfectly capable to lead the mission instead of me."

Padma leaned in closer, her eyebrows knotted in concern. "Is everything alright with Ginny and the kids?"

"Yeah, it's just best for me to be at home right now," Harry said, pulling back from the grate. "You'll be brilliant tonight."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Padma sighed, giving him a rare wink.

Harry yanked his head out from the hearth and turned to see Teddy staring at him intently.

"Come on, James," the boy said, grabbing the toddler's hand and pulling him from the table. "Let's go play Gobstones."

Harry followed the pair from the kitchen and up the stairs, where Teddy pulled James into his own bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Harry stared at the door for a moment, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, before pushing through to his own bedroom.

Ginny was propped up in bed, a copy of _Which Broomstick?_ discarded beside her on the duvet. She gave Harry a wry smile as he entered.

"Sometimes I think Teddy is more mature than the two of us put together," Harry told her, stripping off his sweater and throwing it towards the laundry basket. "I haven't heard back from the midwives yet."

Ginny bit her lip and nodded. "Your robes are just there," she said, pointing to her desk chair. Harry's Auror robes were draped across the back, and he looked to her in surprise.

"Don't you have to leave soon?" she asked, a hard note in her voice.

"What d'you take me for?" he asked her.

"What?"

"You think I'd just run off to work and leave you with them?" Harry gestured towards the hall.

Ginny's eyebrows raised. "You're not going?"

"Of course I'm not," Harry huffed.

"I don't think you've told them you can't come in since James was born," said Ginny.

"That's not true," Harry said, racking his brain to remember the last time he'd told Robards he wouldn't make an assignment or raid. Ginny smirked at him.

"I'm sure there's been another time," Harry said. "How're you feeling?"

Ginny brushed a hand across her middle. "Scared," she said. Their eyes met. "I haven't felt the baby move since this morning. There hasn't been anymore bleeding, though."

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a gentle hand on Ginny's knee.

"I'm sure everything's fine," he said.

"What are the boys doing?"

"Playing Gobstones."

"They've eaten?"

"In a way."

Ginny laughed. "Ice cream?" she asked.

"Biscuits."

There was a sudden tap on the window, and Harry looked up to see Swanhild standing on the ledge, a scrap of parchment in her beak.

He jumped up and cranked opened the glass, taking the note from her.

"Winifred says they won't be here for a few hours," Harry read. "Eloise bloody Midgen is having a baby today. She says to stay in bed and write again if the bleeding becomes 'profuse.'"

"Lovely," Ginny breathed with a roll of her eyes.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Ginny straightened her posture as Teddy stuck his head in.

"James fell asleep on the carpet again," he said.

"Just leave him," Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Want to sit for awhile, Ted?"

Teddy looked at the pair of them, sat on the bed, the perfect opposite of interesting.

"Nah," he said. "Can I go swing in the garden?"

"Of course, sweetheart," Ginny murmured. "Don't forget to pack your bag tonight. Your gran's collecting you early tomorrow."

Harry watched as Teddy roll his eyes and smiled, pulling his little turquoise head from the doorframe.

Ginny leaned back on her pillows once more.

"What did you two talk about earlier?" she asked Harry.

"Remus and Tonks," Harry said. "He was angry that he's the only person he knows without a mum and dad."

"Well, surely you can relate to that," Ginny said.

"I can," Harry affirmed. "But he wants answers that I can't give him."

"He'll understand when he's older," Ginny said, giving Harry's arm a gentle tug so that he swung his legs onto the bed and sat beside her. Harry reached down and squeezed her thigh.

"He just seemed so... I don't know," Harry paused for a moment. "He seemed so _angry_ , Ginny. I'm worried he won't be able to forgive them for leaving him."

"He will," Ginny said assuredly. "We'll help him."

Harry was quiet for a moment. Talking about Teddy helped keep his fears about the baby at bay, but something else was nagging at Harry.

"Ginny?" he asked.

"Hmm?" she said.

"How d'you think… how d'you think Tonks was able to forgive Remus for leaving?"

"How?" Ginny repeated. "The same way anyone forgives anyone, I suppose. She loved him, and wanted him in her life, and was able to see past his mistake to his humanity."

She tilted her head so that it was resting on his shoulder.

"I could kill Eloise Midgen," she said, and Harry snorted.

The hours passed slowly, and Ginny fell into a fretful sleep, her arms wrapped protectively over her stomach. It was nearly five when Teddy stuck his head in the doorway once again.

"James is awake," he murmured. "And there are some old ladies here asking for Ginny."

Harry popped out of bed as Ginny opened her eyes and yawned.

"Why don't you take James downstairs and find him something to eat?" Harry told Teddy, knowing full well that the boys' lunch of biscuits would likely be complemented with a dinner of cake.

Teddy grinned happily and ran off. Harry bounded down the stairs into the doorway, where Winifred and Theodora were waiting expectantly. He ushered them up to the bedroom, explaining quietly what had happened.

Harry held Ginny's hand as the two midwives quietly examined her. Winifred opened her hefty medical bag and pulled out something that looked rather like an ear trumpet, pressing one end to Ginny's swollen stomach while inserting the other gently into her ear. She smiled.

"Baby's chugging away in there, Ginny," she said, pulling her wand out of her pocket as she removed the trumpet from her ear. "Listen."

She gave the peculiar device a quick rap with her wand, and a rhythmic thumping sound filled the room, like water sloshing back and forth in a bucket. A little laugh escaped Harry's lips as he latched onto the sound of this new baby's heartbeat.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Ginny groaned, sinking back on the bed.

Harry brought her hand to his lips and pressed a quick kiss to her milky skin.

"I can't believe we're going to have two kids," he said softly. He found himself overwhelmed with the sudden feeling that he was an imposter in his own life, as he often did when he slowed down and contemplated all that he and Ginny had created together.

"That's just now registering, is it?" Ginny said, tugging her sweater back down and Winifred put the ear trumpet back in her black bag.

"Everything seems fine," Theodora said. "Your cervix is inflamed, that's likely what caused the bleeding, but you should write us if there's any more."

"Of course," Ginny said courteously.

"One other thing," Winifred said, and Ginny looked to the other witch, eyebrows raised in concern.

"You're pale, and I can see just by looking at you that you've lost weight since your last visit," Winifred continued softly. "You're young, Ginny, and healthy as a hippogriff, but we don't want to push your limits, do we?"

Ginny looked slightly ashamed, and nodded.

"I think an hour of rest each midday is in order, don't you, Theodora?"

"Certainly," Theodora said. "Will Harry be around to help? Or your mother?"

Ginny flashed Harry an angry look. "My family can help," she said.

The midwives nodded in satisfaction, and as they discussed follow-up care with Ginny further, Harry slipped from the room and made his way down to the kitchen.

James and Teddy both bore chocolate-covered faces and were looking quite pleased with themselves, but Harry was surprised to see, for the second time that day, an unexpected face in his fireplace.

"Hello," Harry said to Hermione. "What's going on?"

Hermione looked perhaps more miserable than Harry had ever seen her. "Is everything alright? Padma said you had some kind of emergency-"

"Yeah, Ginny was feeling ill, but she's fine now," Harry said, rubbing his forehead. "What is it?"

"We need you to come-"

"Damn it," Harry said, slamming his fist onto the mantle and causing Teddy to jump about a foot in the air. "No, Hermione. I don't give a shit about the raid, alright? We've had a quiet few months, otherwise no one would be bothered with whatever scheme Dung's gotten himself into-"

"It's not about that," Hermione said. "I'm not asking you, Harry. Meet me in your cubicle."

Her face vanished from the flames and Harry swore loudly. Ginny walked into the kitchen, a surly expression on her face.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm going into the office," Harry said, yanking his cloak off the rack. "You know, it'd be nice to have just one fucking day where they could sort these things without me, but apparently that's just too much trouble."

"Alright, alright, spare me the drama," Ginny said, raising a hand to stop him. "Couldn't you have bothered to actually feed them?"

"What?" Harry snapped. Teddy and James were watching the adults, their heads turning back and forth as though they were following a tennis match.

"Well, Merlin, Harry, I can't send Teddy back to Andromeda tomorrow morning without any real food in him!"

"Oh, so I was supposed to help you _and_ make dinner for them?"

"It's called multitasking," Ginny seethed. " _I_ somehow manage to do it every day."

Harry blinked at her, feeling anger course through him.

"Sorry," he said through gritted teeth as he threw a pinch of powder into the fireplace and stepped in.

Harry was deposited into the Auror office conference room quite in the mood to kick something. He pushed his way into the hall, past the rows of corked walls, until finally he reached his cubicle.

Hermione was sitting in Padma's chair. She looked up expectantly as he entered, flinging himself down into his seat and looking at her.

"I'm sorry you've had a bad day," she said sympathetically. "Is everything alright with Ginny?"

"She was bleeding," Harry admitted. "The midwives checked her over, she's fine."

Hermione nodded, before pushing on. "Listen, Harry, I didn't ask you here to talk about Mundungus."

Harry shifted uneasily in his chair. "What's going on, Hermione?"

Hermione cleared his throat before handing him a manila envelope.

"They found two of the American Aurors today, Harry. The ones who went missing in the hurricane. Gottlieb and Pierce."

Harry felt his stomach twist as he undid the envelope. Inside were several black and white photographs, showing two men bound on the ground, in the midst of a large field. The men were unmoving, and the only way that Harry could distinguish that the photographs were magical were by the shadows that moved across the photographs, presumably belonging to the Aurors investigating this new murder. For Gottlieb and Pierce were, without a doubt, dead.

"They were strangled," Hermione said quietly. "Harry, do you see…."

Harry did see. He had nearly missed it, so gruesome were the bodies of the two Aurors, but he was immediately more sickened by the small structure that had been erected just to the left of the bodies. It was clearly made of wood, and perhaps pine needles, but they had been twisted into a latticework. Three branches bound into the shape of a triangle, needles rounded out to make a circle inside the triangle, and a single, smooth stick running up the middle of the whole creation.

"What the fuck, Hermione?" Harry said, looking up from the sign of the Deathly Hallows.

"I know," Hermione whispered. "I just got these, I haven't had time to research how the Hallows, or Grindelwald, or any of it could be related to the missing children, but I wanted you to see it before anyone else got ahold of it."

Harry tossed the images onto his desk and let out a long sigh. His mind was racing. He couldn't think of any justification that would call for someone to construct the sign of the Hallows at a murder scene.

"Maybe some kind of copycat?" Hermione suggested. "Though I don't think Grindelwald ever strangled anyone…"

Harry shook his head, a terrible feeling of dread creeping over him.

"There's something else," Hermione said, and Harry knew she was about to confirm his very concerns. "They're asking for you specifically. They want you to be a consultant on the case."

"What is this?" said Harry, exasperated. "Some kind of set up? They've been sending us useless information for months and now suddenly this symbol ends up at a murder scene?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know," she said.

"I'm going home," Harry said softly. "I'll see you on Monday, alright?"

Hermione nodded, and Harry stood from his chair and crossed the office. Soon enough he was roughly tumbling back into his own kitchen. The bottom floor of their house was quiet and dark, and Harry took the opportunity to steal back into his study.

He raised his wand to illuminate the dark room, and scanned the shelves for a book he had bought in Diagon Alley, years ago, when he'd first began his Auror training. It had been on a whim, and likely the result of a self-destructive need for understanding, but now as he searched the shelves for _The Life and Times of Gellert Grindelwald,_ he felt a certain sense of validation.

Feeling a bizarre sense of relief at having an actual subject to research, Harry flipped the book open to the final pages. He scanned the index for the word he sought, smiling as it directed him back to an early entry in the text.

 _Though there were many rumours after Grindelwald's death of a secret heir to Nurmengard, this author definitively asserts that Grindelwald never had a wife_

 _nor fathered any children._

Not exactly what he was hoping for.

He flipped back to the index, and searched again for the word " _children_ ". This time he was led to the halfway point of the book.

 _It is not known, exactly, when Grindelwald's obsession with Obscurials begin, or the first place where he encountered such a destructive force. These magical children rarely live past the age of ten, and are often too erratic and vulnerable to be controlled by any one man._

Harry scanned the rest of the page, but there was little more written about these Obscurials. Harry had never heard the word, and decided that they must be a rare phenomenon to have even passed under Hermione's radar. He glanced back up to the shelves that lined the walls of his study, grimacing slightly.

Just yesterday, his Muggle sister-in-law Audrey had been going on about how most universities had uploaded the contents of their libraries to computer servers, so you could find the location of a book you needed in mere seconds. Harry found himself slightly envious.

He stood from his chair, giving a little sigh as he made his way over to the shelf, running a finger over a few of the dusty spines. Ginny had teasingly called the little grunts he made upon sitting and standing his "dad noises", but even so, Harry felt impossibly old for only being twenty-five.

Landing on _An Encyclopaedia of Magical Afflictions and Illnesses,_ Harry pulled the volume down from the shelf and plopped back down into his chair. He cracked the spine and easily found the Os, drawing a finger across each cramped little word in search for this mysterious term.

It didn't take him long to find the passage on Obscurials, and Harry felt his heart thud quickly as he scanned the description.

 _Though rare in the 20th century and onwards, Obscurials plagued the magical communities of the 18th and 19th centuries, when wizard children were taught to hide and repress their magic for fear of discovery by zealous Muggles. The physical and psychological trauma of attempting to control underage magic often turned inwards, resulting in an Obscurus, a dark and parasitic force that erupted out of children in moments of distress, often taking the shape of a large, black cloud. A particularly powerful Obscurus could level an entire city..._

Harry glanced out to his darkened garden, his brain attempting to connect several of the loose ends he'd encountered since June. There were children going missing in Louisiana. American Aurors had been dispatched to investigate, and had been murdered by someone who had left the sign of the Deathly Hallows at the crime scene, a sign long associated with Gellert Grindelwald. Grindelwald had at one point had a keen interest in Obscurials and their power…

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his. The threads were there, but they were tenuous, confusing, and Harry couldn't find a real way of connecting these Obscurial children of the 19th century to the missing ones in America. He tried to imagine a dark, swirling entity forcing itself from the body of a poor, unsuspecting child…

And then Harry realized that the image was already in his mind, tucked away from the war, when an old man with blue eyes had peered towards him and described how his sister had been attacked by Muggles for performing magic outside of her control.

"' _She wouldn't use magic, but she couldn't get rid of it; it drove inward and drove her mad_ ,'" the man had said. "' _It exploded out of her when she couldn't control it_.'"

"Ariana Dumbledore," Harry breathed. The girl had to have been an Obscurial, and Harry would've bet his wand arm that she was the way Grindelwald had discovered the phenomenon. Harry stood in excitement, pacing through his study as he attempted to further bridge the connection between his discovery and the missing American children.

"What about her?" a voice said from behind him, and Harry turned to see Ginny rubbing her eyes in the doorway, wearing one of her sweaters and a pair of his pants. She padded softly into the room, depositing herself into one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace and gazing at him frankly.

"I think she may have been afflicted with this thing… I can't really describe it… called an Obscurus," Harry said.

"Never heard of one," Ginny admitted, picking at her cuticle. "Hermione just Flooed right into the bedroom. She really worried about you."

"Is she still here?" Harry asked.

"No," said Ginny. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"I wouldn't know where to begin," Harry said, sinking back into his chair and swiveling around to face her. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"Me, too," Ginny said, and her voice broke. "I just…. I really don't want to be on bedrest, you know?"

She looked miserable, and Harry stood from his seat, crossing the room to kneel in front of her.

"Ginny, it's not bedrest; you just have to slow down a bit."

She bit her lip. "I'm so tired of other people depending on my body," she said dismally.

"Because of Riddle, d'you think?"

"I think that's a part of it… I think I get anxious when I feel like I don't have complete control over myself… but mostly it's just being needed all day; never getting a break," she said.

Harry reached out and touched her knee. "I'm sorry, Ginny."

"It's alright," she said. "It's not as though I regret it."

"You're not unhappy?"

"Sometimes I am, when I'm missing Quidditch, or feeling particularly sleep deprived, but then…. I don't know, Harry. I look at James, and all I see is you, and I think about how we _made_ him, you know? And my heart feels like it's going to burst with happiness."

Harry did know, and he took a deep breath.

"I can't stop thinking about Teddy," he said. "I can't help thinking that Remus and Tonks were foolish for having him in the middle of a war… that my parents we're foolish for having me."

Ginny smiled. "It's always foolish to have a baby," she said.

"I suppose," Harry said.

"What's this about?" Ginny said shrewdly, edging out of the chair so that she and Harry were both sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace.

"I just… I can't stop thinking about the war," Harry said, as Ginny reached out and took his hands in her own. "I mean… it all came down to me, didn't it? The battle being at Hogwarts, happening so quickly, and without planning."

Ginny's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"It's just… Teddy asked me why _his_ parents had to die… and I feel like I bear some the responsibility for that, don't I?" Harry asked. "I drew Voldemort to the castle trying to find the diadem, and the Order wasn't left with another option, and I think I will always feel guilty about that."

Predictably, Ginny pursed her lips. "You shouldn't."

Harry was quiet for a moment. "I want Teddy to forgive me," he said. "I want our children to forgive me."

Ginny huffed out a small breath. "There's nothing to forgive, Harry."

"There are, though," Harry sighed. "I mean, I still need to figure out how to forgive Snape and Dumbledore… for what they planned… and how angry I'd be if someone did that to James."

Ginny nodded, turning his hands over in her own. Harry took a deep breath.

"That's why I've been thinking… I mean, I know we already decided on Lily for a girl… but I've been thinking, if the baby's a boy, we could call him after them."

Ginny dropped his hand. "What?"

"Albus Severus."

Ginny gave Harry a wry smile. "You're having me on."

"Gin-"

"Forgive them, that's fine. Why do we have to call our baby after them?" Ginny asked, her eyebrows raising.

"I've just been thinking about how, if it were me, with no family, no one to uphold my memory…" Harry began.

"No one is forgetting Albus Dumbledore anytime soon," Ginny said. "What's this got to do with Lupin and Tonks?"

Harry didn't answer. Ginny stared into his face, and Harry watched as her expression morphed from confusion to understanding. She didn't look angry, or disappointed, but resigned, and Harry didn't know if this made him feel perhaps worse than he already did.

"You have to go, don't you?" Ginny asked after a moment.

Harry nodded. "I think I do, yeah."

Ginny turned to gaze out the window. Harry reached out to take her hand once more, and she squeezed it softly before speaking.

"Alright, then."


	6. The MACUSA

I wanted to post one final, incomplete, update of the Lark Ascending. After many months of brooding over this story, I've decided to formally shelf it for the indefinite future. There isn't one simple reason for this, and frankly I feel quite sad to leave this story when it's direction still feels very clear to me. That being said, I have grown quite a bit since I started writing fic, and Together and The Lark Ascending were both started when I was in a horrifically toxic relationship that I have thankfully left. Revisiting these stories in the last months has only served to reveal how much I framed Harry and Ginny's relationship around my own, and how many unhealthy patterns I had unwittingly represented in how they communicate with one another. I can't, in good faith, continue writing this story knowing that there are clearly toxic elements being misrepresented as romantic (moreso in Together than this story, but to go back and rework the Lark Ascending is more work than I'd like to commit to at this point in my life). The other issue at hand is that, risking spoilers, when I thought up and first drafted this story in 2017, I had the ultimate villian/menace keeping the missing American children in cages. In a psuedo-case of life imitating art, it feels pretty foul to try to create fic around the issue of children being taken from their parents and kept in cages in light of the current Trump's administration immigration policies. Perhaps one day I will be able to rework this story in a way that I feel more comfortable with, but the writing I post tonight will be the last I have for this story, and I have no immediate plans to write more. Thank you, as always, for reading 3

* * *

James was pulling a replica train across a small wooden track as Harry entered the sitting room, throwing himself bodily onto the sofa.

"Daddy!" James commanded imperiously. "Move the train!"

"What d'you say, mate?"

"Peas."

Harry laughed and raised his wand, pointing it at the train so that it went round and round the circular track on its own accord. James squealed in delight and clapped his hands together.

"Watch this," Harry said, raising his wand again so that puffs of brightly colored smoke floated from the train's engine. James stood in excitement, reaching out for the clouds and chasing them around the parlor.

And Ginny was there, laughing. "This isn't even our sitting room," she said, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear.

"No," Harry agreed.

"You've wound him up before his bath," Ginny admonished, scooping up James and carrying him from the room.

Harry smiled again, a feeling of warmth settling in his stomach as he watched Ginny carry James into the hall and up the stairs. A clap of thunder sounded from outside, and Harry realized that something terrible was about to happen.

He was in the foyer, and the door burst open, the force of it upending the coat rack, and Harry watched the hooded figure cross the threshold, his chest constricting as he heard his own voice sound throughout the house.

"Ginny, take James and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

He raised his wand and sent a bolt of light at the man, but it went right through him, and Harry caught a glint of red as Voldemort smiled at him from under the hood and made for the staircase.

Hearing Ginny screaming from above, Harry gave a great roar and ran at Voldemort, only to pass through him, as though he were a ghost. Harry chased Voldemort up the stairs, but the other wizard was somehow too quick, and the door to the bedroom was ajar when Harry reached it, and he saw red hair spilling into the hallway.

And there was Ginny, lying in front of the bedroom door, her eyes open but unseeing, and Harry heard himself cry out in grief, but was immediately distracted as he watched Voldemort lift his wand and point it towards James, the shrill cry of " _Avada Kedavra_ " tearing through Harry as the toddler crumpled to the bottom of his crib.

"James!" Harry wailed, and then there were hands on him, soft hands dragging him upwards.

"Harry!"

"James," Harry shouted again, his heart pounding. "Please, James!"

"Harry, please, Harry, wake up," and then Ginny came swimming into view, blissfully alive, and Harry was in bed, and Ginny was straddling him, her hands on his chest. She breathed a sigh of relief that quickly turned to a shriek as Harry bolted upwards, grabbing her by both wrists.

"James," he cried, his hands fumbling and shaking as he clutched her arms. "Where's James?"

"In bed," Ginny said in a rapid whisper. "He's fine, Harry, I promise - _Harry_ , look at me, he's fine, but you have to be quiet, or you'll wake him-"

A plaintive cry rang out from the other side of the wall. Ginny froze, Harry breathing heavily and unable to release his grip on her wrists.

Another cry, this one followed by a quick shout of, " _Mummy!_ "

"Fuck," Ginny muttered, rising from Harry's lap. "Fuck, I'll be right back."

Harry couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but replay the images of James, falling in his crib, Ginny, dead in the doorway, and himself, forced to watch but powerless to stop as his entire world fell apart.

Ginny reentered the room, James curled on her chest. She laid him unceremoniously beside Harry on the bed, where he crawled blindly into his father's embrace. Harry wrapped both of his arms around the boy and finally allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding as he felt the child's heart thrumming against his own chest. Ginny sank down beside them, reaching across James to place a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Did I hurt you?" Harry asked, feeling more ashamed with each passing moment.

"No," said Ginny, flexing her wrist. "No, you weren't rough."

Neither of them spoke again until James let out a gentle snore.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ginny asked.

Harry rubbed a hand through James' hair. "D'you remember me telling you about when I went to Godric's Hollow? With Hermione?"

Ginny nodded.

"And after, when Voldemort was remembering, remembering how he killed my parents, and I saw it, remembered it, with him."

Ginny nodded, and her warm eyes were filled with concern.

"That's what I dreamed," Harry told her. "But instead of my parents and me, it was us, and James, and I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't kill me, and I couldn't get ahead of him, I couldn't get to either of you in time, and you… you were gone, and James was just lying there, in his cot and-" His voice had quivered, and he stopped, taking a deep breath.

Ginny reached out to him, placing her small, warm hand on his cheek.

"We're right here, Harry," she said, using the soft, soothing voice she usually reserved for their son.

Harry only nodded.

"Do you think you're worried?" said Ginny. "About going so far, I mean? If something were to happen, that you wouldn't be able to get to us in time?"

Harry grimaced. "I feel like I'm abandoning you," he said.

"You're not."

"What kind of prick leaves his son and pregnant wife to go chasing after the Child Catcher?"

"The what?"

"It's from…," Harry sighed. "Nevermind."

He reached up, about to rub his scar, when Ginny reached for his hand. She drew it towards her, as though to inspect it, and then she pressed her lips to the tips of first his pointer, and then index, and then his ring finger, and then she dropped his palm back to the mattress, before leaning forward and pressing her lips to his.

Harry closed his eyes, and his fingers reached out to her hip, about to draw her closer to him, but she pulled away.

"Harry?"

He opened his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Why didn't you tell me about the Deathly Hallows being found at that murder scene?"

Harry swore quietly. "How'd you hear about that?"

"Hermione mentioned it."

"I'm sorry," he said, and he was.

"Harry…."

"I didn't want to worry you."

Something flashed in the depths of Ginny's eyes. "Don't."

"I'm serious, Ginny, it was just after we had to send for the midwives because of the bleeding, I thought it would be too much at once."

"You've never lied to me like that before."

"I know," Harry said.

"And you told me you wanted to go help the MACUSA that same night, so don't try to make it seem like you were worried about overwhelming me."

"Ginny, I-"

"Why?"

He didn't answer, the shame felt like a punch in the gut.

"Harry, why?"

Any other case, and she would've known. It would've been a nothing of a conversation, they would've contemplated it over roasted potatoes and wine at dinner. But that stupid sculpture, that latticework, the Aurors with the reeds tied 'round their necks...

"Because I'm really fucking scared," he said. "Because it's been easier these last weeks to come home to you and James and act this is a normal case and not me being the only person who knows how to stop a maniac using dark magic to hurt a bunch of kids."

Ginny's eyes widened slightly, but she nodded, before sinking gently back down to her pillow, pulling on his arm so he would follow.

"I'm sorry," he said again, resting his head beside her. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's alright," she said, placing her hands on either side of his face.

"It's not."

Ginny furrowed her brow. "Harry, I'll always understand. Try and remember that, for fuck's sake."

He reached out, brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheekbone just as she leaned down to place a kiss on James' crown.

She was so beautiful, Harry thought, bathed in the moonlight; she was everything he'd ever wanted, warm and caring and funny, and James, the best thing in his life, was her, all her, and as he'd watched her labour to bring their son into this world it had felt like such a gift, that she could give him an actual relative, a child, that she would do that for _them_. He wouldn't trade the anxiety, the agitation, the knowledge that he couldn't control every minute of his son's life, for having never known James at all.

"I love you," he said softly.

"I love you," said Ginny. "More than anything, Harry. No matter what happens, we'll figure it out, alright?"

"Always."

And so they drifted back to sleep, clinging to each other over the children they had made, proof of their love for one another and their hope for the future.

* * *

The Ministry had sent a car, as though being hired on as an overseas consultant was an honor, rather than a nuisance. The driver arrived in front of the house at six-thirty on the nose, just as Ron and Hermione had tumbled through the Floo and into the kitchen, ready to say their goodbyes.

"Don't see why they had to arrange the Portkey so early," Ron said as he bent down to hand James a sweet. "You'll be getting to New York at, what, one in the morning?"

"What was that?" Ginny asked sharply, squatting down to grab James by the shoulders. The boy was going rather red.

"They want me there early so they can get a photo op for the morning's paper," Harry sighed. James let out a vicious burp that was followed by a trail of flames, leaving his mother's worried face covered in soot and ash.

"Why?" was all she said as James laughed hysterically. Hermione rushed forward with her wand, giving Ginny a quick _tergeo_.

"Dragon Drops," Ron said. "George and I've been disagreeing with whether to market them to children or teenagers, but George was right; the kids'll go mad for them."

"Jesus, Ron," Ginny snapped, examining a singed piece of hair.

"Oh, come on," Ron said. "It's just a bit of smoke!"

Ginny regarded her brother for a long moment, her lips thin, but Harry could see the corners of her mouth turn up just slightly. Hermione laid a hand on her forearm.

"Really, though," she said. "I still don't understand why you and James won't come and stay with us. We have the room, and Ron's always home; he could help with the boys and-"

"I appreciate it, Hermione," Ginny said, her voice slightly strained. "Really, I do, but this will already be a lot of change for him... I don't want to add a new environment on top of Harry leaving and the baby and everything else."

Hermione look as though she wanted to say more, but Ron quickly shook his head at her, and she looked down to her feet. Harry cleared his throat.

"Best not keep the stiffs waiting," he said, gesturing towards the door.

Ginny bent down once more to scoop James into her arms, and she, Ron, and Hermione followed Harry to the stoop. Ron gave his friend a clap on the back, and Hermione gave him a swift hug and a peck on the cheek.

"Take care of yourself," she said, pulling back and biting her lip.

"I will," Harry said, giving her a bracing smile. He glanced at Ginny, who was once more peering into James' open mouth, before looking to Ron and dropping his voice.

"Just make sure she's alright, will you?" he said, trying to keep the hint of desperation out of his voice.

Something in Ron's gaze softened, and he nodded. Harry sighed, his chest pounding as he heard the driver start the ignition of the car.

Ron and Hermione lingered back as Ginny followed Harry down the path.

Harry stopped in front of the door and turned, hoisting his rucksack over his shoulder before smiling at his son and pressing a kiss to his forehead. James smacked his lips happily.

"Bye-bye, Daddy," he said.

"I'll see you soon, mate," said Harry. "I love you so much."

"I love you," James repeated, the words all running together to sound like a happy gargle. "I want bacon."

"Soon, promise," Harry said, before turning to his wife. "I'll write to you when I arrive. I love you."

"I love you, too," she said. "Please, Harry, just be safe, alright?"

Harry nodded, and suddenly felt a slight sting at the back of his eyes. He touched James' head once more and gave Ginny what he hoped was a reassuring look, before turning towards the car.

He had just reached for the door handle when a soft weight slammed into him, and he felt small, warm hands pull him back around towards the house. Then Ginny was slung around his neck hugging him more fiercely than perhaps ever before, the roundness of the baby pressed against his middle, her hair tickling his face.

"I love you so much," she breathed, so quickly and quietly that he almost missed it. "Listen, Harry, I - I'll always wait. Alright? Always."

Harry swallowed loudly, and he pressed his lips to her forehead. She pulled away, giving him the hard, blazing look he knew so well, and he nodded once more, gently touching her wrist. James was standing on the curb, looking up curiously at his parents. Harry ruffled the boy's hair, and before he lost all resolve completely, turned to the car.

He settled in on the seat, turning in time to see Ginny waving behind him, James once again balanced on her hip. He raised his hand to her.

The drive through London was thankfully brief, and before Harry truly had time to process his imminent departure, he was being beckoned into Proudfoot's office by her eager new secretary.

"They're all waiting for you, Mr. Potter," the girl chirped happily.

"Thanks," Harry said, crossing the threshold and immediately taking note of the room's occupants. Proudfoot was sitting in her leather chair with her arms crossed over her chest, Robards lingering just over her shoulder, whispering rapidly in her ear as he gestured to a stack of parchment on her desk. Sat in the chairs in front of her were Kingsley and a witch that Harry had never seen before.

"Harry," Kingsley said, rising from his seat. "Good to see you."

"You as well," Harry said, shaking the older wizard's hand. "Here to see me off?"

Kingsley laughed. "In a way." He nodded to the witch, who had also stood and was looking between the pair of them. "Let me introduce your handler, Petronilla Peters."

She seemed to be in her mid-thirties, and was tall, intimidatingly so, with smooth skin, pointed features, and high cheekbones. Her thick, black hair hung long down her back, and she wasn't wearing robes, but rather a tailored pantsuit in a deep emerald velvet.

"Petra, please. It's an honor, Mr. Potter," she said, extending a hand. "Allow me to say on behalf of the MACUSA how much we appreciate you lending your talents to our investigation."

Her voice was deep, but she spoke quickly, and there was something rather familiar about the way her mouth upturned slightly as she addressed him, as if they were part of some private joke to which the others were oblivious.

"Er, of course," Harry said, hesitating slightly. "I didn't realize I needed a handler; I wasn't planning on going undercover."

"Oh, no," Petra answered with a smile. "I typically work as a handler with international agents here in London, but because I'm well-versed in both MACUSA and Ministry policy, I'll be on site with you and your partner in Baton Rouge, for communication purposes mainly, but also as a resource to you."

"Peters comes highly recommended," Kingsley said.

Harry nodded. "Are we leaving soon, then?"

"Not so fast, we need you to sign your release forms first," Robards growled. "So if anything happens to your pretty face while you're over there, Mrs. Potter can't hold us responsible."

Harry gave Kingsley a pointed look. The minister cleared his throat. "I'm sure that could've been phrased more delicately, Gawain," he said.

"Here, Harry," Proudfoot said, handing him a quill and indicating where he should initial. "Has Patil found a partner for the duration of your absence?"

"We're relegating her to training," Robards answered. "We don't have enough bodies right now to get her a new partner."

"So we're essentially losing two of our top Aurors to this case?" Proudfoot asked in a clipped tone. "Lovely."

"While the MACUSA has one of the largest Auror departments in the world, I might add," Robards said. To her credit, Petra met his gaze.

"The MACUSA has paid out the remainder of Harry's contract here, despite him only being taken on for six weeks," Kingsley said. "Harry and Padma have no open investigations underway, Harry expressed interest in this case, and you yourself, Gawain, assured me two weeks ago that Harry is inessential to the day-to-day functioning of your office."

It was difficult for Harry to hide his grin, but thankfully, at that very moment, Petra stepped forward once more.

"I'm sorry," she said. "If we've dealt with all of the minutiae, Harry and I are due to leave in just a few moments."

She gestured to a tennis racket in the corner of the room. The object was missing most of its strings, and the frame seemed rather rusty, but as Harry watched, the racket began to glow blue.

"Harry," Petra said urgently, and together they stepped forward.

"Good luck, Harry," Kingsley called, but Harry had already placed his hand on the racket, and he felt that familiar sensation of being hooked from behind, and he and Petra were off, whirling through space and time, and Harry dared not open his eyes, but could sense the air around them change from the dense smog of London, to the slightly floral air of the countryside to the clear, briney scent of the sea.

It was the longest experience he'd ever had using a Portkey, of being whipped about and about, and it was all he could do not to vomit over the pair of them. Just when he thought it was all going to be too much, they were deposited roughly onto a grass slope.

Eyes still closed, Harry leaned forward, retching. He finally cracked one lid open to see Petra standing above him, one hand outstretched. He took it gratefully.

"You landed on your feet?" he asked, not bothering to mask how greatly this impressed him.

"I travel that way, like, four times a week," she said with a shrug, and Harry noticed that some of her professional pretense had vanished. She was clearly more comfortable here than at the Ministry.

Harry glanced around, taking note of their surroundings. They seemed to have landed in a field, but Harry could see the outlines of buildings around them, hundreds of windows lit up in stark, square contrast against the dark sky.

"This is New York?" he asked.

"Central Park," Petra said. "Unfortunately, it's garbage day, so watch out for rats. They're like small dogs here."

"Right," said Harry. She began to walk towards a line of trees, with Harry following along. She moved fast on her long legs, and Harry felt suddenly self-conscious of his burgundy Auror robes.

"Do you lot all wear Muggle clothes, then?" he asked.

"We tend to be a little more flamboyant than your average No-Maj yuppie," Petra answered warmly. "Still, the ISS is enforced quite, um, strictly here in the city, so we all try to blend in as easily as possible."

Harry didn't answer. Petra's comment was fairly innocuous, her tone, moments before jovial, had taken on a harder note. He'd been briefed on the basics of MACUSA Auror operations before his departure, but the cultural aspect was all a bit over his head.

"Are you from New York?" he asked as they reached a lamppost. He didn't know what it was about her that invited so many questions, but he felt an odd sense of nostalgia, remembering the first time he and Hagrid had visited Diagon Alley.

She laughed, pulling out her wand and dimming the street light. "It's always refreshing to meet someone who can't tell a New England accent. I grew up on an island there, in a tiny village called Gay Head."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Charming."

"They actually changed the name a few years ago, but if we're being honest, I always liked Gay Head." She held out a hand to him. "We'll Apparate from here."

He took her hand, closing his eyes as the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a tight tube overtook him.

They appeared with a crack in an alleyway, and Harry was immediately overcome with the smell of old beer and rotten food, as the sounds of scampering and squeaking made it clear that they had come in contact with some of the aforementioned rats.

"This way," said Petra gesturing towards the street.

Despite the early hour, people were still jostling past one another on the crowded pavement, the sound of chatter and heels hitting the concrete echoing towards their position down the alleyway. Taxis honked and sirens bloomed abruptly in the distant, a volume that felt borderline excessive.

Petra turned the corner of the alley, and Harry found himself staring up at one of the most imposing entrances he'd ever seen. A revolving door was overshadowed by hundreds of glass panels reaching upward to an arched, stone facade, carved in an intricate and slightly Gothic fashion. The building towered above them, and Petra gave it a long look before turning to see Harry's reaction.

"The Woolworth Building," she said. "Welcome to the MACUSA."

With that, she took her wand from her pocket and pointed it towards a stone owl, engraved in the facade, that Harry had failed to notice on his initial appraisal of the skyscraper. The air around them shifted imperceptibly, and the revolving door started rotating just slightly, and Harry followed Petra through the spinning glass.

They were in an antechamber of sorts, made of grey stone, and Petra pulled Harry forwards towards a staircase at the other end of the hall, and as they ascended, the great atrium of the MACUSA came into view, a glass hall not unlike Britain's own ministry, but trimmed with gold, and above and below them were dozens of stories, with balconies and windows facing inwards, towards the concourse where Harry was now standing.

A massive clock was positioned directly above them, and Harry tried to read the face, but Petra was clacking along the marbled floors, and again Harry struggled to keep up as she made a sharp turn down a long hall, this one decorated on either side with moving oil paintings featuring various witches and wizards, most of whom were gently snoozing in their frames.

"I'm sorry about the rush," Petra said. "I'm sure you've heard that the Wizard's Voice is trying to get a piece out on you for the morning edition; I just learned before we left that the President of the MACUSA will be in attendance at your initial briefing. He doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"It's fine," Harry said noticing a wizard standing halfway down the hall, wearing a black, three-piece suit and standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his wand laid across his left forearm. Petra stopped in front of him, flicking her braid over her shoulder and producing a square piece of parchment.

"Petronilla Peters," she said briskly. "I have Harry Potter here, for an official briefing on Auror Office case three-hundred and thirty-four."

The man nodded briskly, extending his wand arm and waving it in front of Petra. He nodded, and she gestured for Harry to step forward. The man did the same, and as he was waving, Harry glanced at the golden plaque behind the man's right shoulder.

 _Robert F. McIntyre_

 _Auror Commissioner_

Harry wasn't sure where a commissioner would rank in his own office, but he could only assume that he was about to be introduced to the American equivalent of Robards. This notion filled him with a strange sense of foreboding. The suited wizard pushed on the doorknob, and Harry followed Petra into the office.

It was spacious, Harry noted, with dark shelves lining one wall, and a great glass paneled window looking down into the concourse below. A desk was pushed into one corner, but most of the center of the room was taken up by a large leather sofa and two chairs, where five men were lounging easily, all wearing suits in deep blues and greys.

The men turned towards the door as Harry and Petra entered, and one of them, who had been sitting on the arm of the sofa holding a tumbler of amber liquid, stood up and walked jauntily over to them, extending a hand.

"The man of the hour!" he exclaimed. "Bobby McIntyre, Auror Commissioner, pleased to meet you."

His words all seemed to come from the front of his mouth in a pleasant growl, and the letter R seemed distinctly absent from his the end of his words, like a more nasal English accent, Harry thought, so Auror Commissioner came out sounding like _Arrah Cahmmissionah_.

"Harry," said Harry, reaching out to grasp his hand. He'd thought that the man may be close to his age, but now that he was peering into his weathered face, Bobby seemed to be in his mid-forties. His tanned countenance was spread into a charming smile, with slightly downturned eyes that gave him a puppy-like appearance, emphasized by his golden hair, which swooped neatly around his ears.

"Whaddya drink, Harry?" Bobby said, turning towards a golden bar cart beside the window.

"Er-" Harry began, but thankfully Petra cut across him.

"We're here to brief Harry on his assignment, Bobby," she said.

"Lighten up, Petra," said one of the other men on the sofa, standing and approaching Harry. Petra took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring just slightly.

"Harry," Petra said, her tone light. "I have the distinct honor of introducing you to Mr. John Huron, President of the MACUSA."

"Mr. President," Harry said, taking the man's hand.

"Boy," Huron said in his slow drawl, "Are we glad to have you here. We sure do appreciate the time you've taken to help us sort out this little problem down the bayou."

Harry glanced to Petra, eyebrows raised.

"We've had a very long journey, Mr. President," said Petra. "I'm sure we can save most of the introductions for another time, so we can get Harry briefed."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Huron said with a wave of his hand. Bobby came back over and pressed a tumbler of what appeared to be whisky into Harry's hand, gesturing to one of the leather chairs, for Harry to sit.

"Alright," Bobby said, waving his wand so that a stack of files zoomed from his desk to the coffee table in front of them. "I'll do introductions. You've met President Huron. Also joining us tonight are Richard Paddle, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

A thin, balding man with thick glasses leaned forward and nodded. "Call me Dick."

Bobby cleared his throat and continued. "Nick Coil, here, works under me. As Auror Commissioner, my role is to manage the fifty Auror precincts, one in each state, as well as our federal Auror force. Nick is the Chief Auror of the Louisiana precinct. He's got a team of ten at the moment."

Harry nodded, suddenly missing Ginny desperately, imagining the way her eyes would widen with mirth at Nick and Dick.

Bobby gestured to the final man, standing just behind the sofa, and beefy in a way that reminded Harry of his Uncle Vernon. His black hair was buzzed into a neat crewcut, and [that's all folks :(]


	7. Interlude

The Big Sexy Twist in this story was going to be that Harry was captured while investigating down the bayou, after which the story would switch for one chapter to Ginny's POV, where we learn that the stress of Harry's disappearance caused Ginny to deliver Al prematurely on New Years Day, and she moved in with Ron and Hermione so they could help with the boys. We also learn that Hermione's just learned that she's expecting Rose. Melodramatic, I know. I should really write soap opera specs. Here's what I had written of the Ginny POV chapter.

* * *

Her breasts ached. Well, frankly, everything ached, from her toes to her neck, but her breasts were the most pressing concern, if she was hoping to avoid an infection, at least. She needed to nurse.

Ginny glanced over to the cot, shoved hastily in the corner of the room. She could see the baby's chest was still rising and falling rhythmically, but she couldn't bring herself to wake him, not if there was even the smallest chance that he'd sleep through the night.

From behind her on the bed, James gave a gentle snore. Ginny turned and smiled, reaching over to brush some of the dark hair off of his forehead.

 _God, she missed Harry._

Ginny turned back to the mess of the bedroom, trying to remember where she left the breast pump. Suitcases were piled up against the yellow walls, and dirty laundry so coated the floor that there was hardly room to walk. Ginny sighed and raised her wand, but the clothes only hovered a few inches off the ground before dropping back down into a depressing heap.

She sighed, turning her attention back to the suitcases.

"Accio pump," she murmured quietly, trying not to disturb James. Nothing happened. She wasn't sure if this was because it wasn't there, among their things, or because she had struggled to cast even the simplest of spells since Christmas.

All the same, she didn't feel much like sifting through everything. She stood from the bed, reaching back once more to pull the knit blanket over James's shoulder.

The landing was quiet as she pulled the door open and stepped out, the hardwood giving a groan beneath her. She stepped down gingerly, the silken, frayed sleeve of her dressing gown falling to her elbow as she reached for the bannister.

 _He'd given it to her for her twenty-second birthday. She'd been heavily pregnant with James, in the middle of the hottest summer in decades, and she was miserable. She would lie around their house naked while he was at work, watching her stomach shift in a way that was both beautiful and grotesque, beads of perspiration dripping from places she hadn't even realized could sweat. And when he turned up with the kimono it had been perfect, so cool and soft, and she'd worn it nearly every day since._

She took a sharp breath.

 _Where is he?_

She carried the sadness everywhere, it was like a physical thing inside her, and if asked to point out where it lay, she would gesture to just below her sternum and just above her stomach. She'd always thought, since the war, that if he really died, she'd know, she'd be able to feel his absence from this world in some other part of herself, and she wondered if this was what that feeling was: her body confirming her worst fears.

Mostly, the ache stayed right there, contained in the center of her. She felt it there now as she stopped to look at a picture, hanging over the stairs, of her and Harry on their wedding day. Photo Ginny was laughing at something Photo Harry was saying to her as she leaned over the cake, knife in hand. They looked so normal.

She supposed she was still quite normal. Many things were still the same. She still laughed at her brothers' jokes, she still felt happy when she was with the boys, she still fretted over the bills that had never seemed to bother Harry.

Sometimes, though, the sadness spilled over into the rest of her. Sometimes she couldn't do magic. Sometimes she cried herself to sleep. Sometimes she would heave suddenly, as if to vomit, the terror pressing down on her throat and making it so she couldn't breathe. After all of these years, wondering what it would be like if it really happened, trying to guard herself, letting her mind wander, imagining the worst-case scenarios, she was shockingly unprepared for how inconsistent grief was, the way it ebbed and flowed.

Ginny skipped the last step, placing a hand on the bannister and swinging towards the kitchen, humming a song under her breath.

"That's nice," said a voice. "What's that?"

Ginny turned to see Ron, lounging on the sofa with a book in his lap, gazing at her from the open door to the sitting room.

She had to think for a moment, for the tune had simply popped into her head and out of her mouth. "Um, Muggle music, isn't it? The Clash."

"How does that bit go?"

She smiled at him for a moment, before singing the warbled verse. " _Did you stand by me? No, not all. Did you stand by me? No way.'_ "

Ron made an involuntary-seeming sound, almost like a cough.

"Well, I wasn't really thinking about the subtext, obviously," Ginny said.

"I was just curious, Ginny."

"Harry loves them, we found some of their records in Sirius's room when we were cleaning out Grimmauld Place."

"Hmm."

She'd upset him, she could tell. She took a deep breath and ventured further into the sitting room. "Have you seen my pump?"

"Your what?"

"Nevermind, you'd know it if you'd seen it."

"What's it do?"

"D'you really wanna know?"

"Sure," said Ron, turning a page.

"It expresses milk from my breasts so they don't become engorged," Ginny said.

"Urgh."

"You're going to have to learn this stuff soon, you know."

"Hermione got me a book," Ron said.

"That's it, then?" Ginny asked, gesturing to the title in his lap.

Ron had the decency to look embarrassed as he lifted the volume, and Ginny could see _Flying With the Cannons_ embossed on the cover in orange lettering.

"That'll definitely teach you to change a nappy," she said.

"I can change a nappy. I just changed one of your kid's nappies yesterday, didn't I?"

"Did you?"

"Yeah, when you went to the village for more milk. He came up to me and said 'Ron, I did a poo,' and I said 'Well, don't worry, your mum'll be home soon to sort you,' and he said 'No, you do it,' and I told him, 'Mate, it'll be easier for the both of us if we just wait for your mum,' and then he went and dropped trou right in the middle of the kitchen. Bloody foul, it was, too, I reckon he's got a parasite or something."

"He doesn't have a parasite," Ginny laughed. "That's just how they are at that age. Shit, I was putting off the toileting 'til Harry got back, I suppose I should get on with it now."

Ron sighed again, looking away. Ginny took a few more quiet steps into the room, sitting down on the floor with a wince, and reaching for a piece of the oriental pile to fiddle with. "You should read the book, Ron," she said quietly.

"I will," Ron said, regarding her from the settee. "I just want to wait until everyone knows, you know? Until it's official."

"Because right now it's one of those unofficial babies?" Ginny asked.

"Merlin, you're so annoying sometimes," Ron said with a wheezy sort-of half-laugh. "You know what I mean. I don't want to jinx anything until we get the all-clear from the midwife."

"You're still allowed to feel excited."

"Jesus, Ginny, I do feel excited, why're you harping on about it?"

"Because I know you're upset that you can't tell him."

Ron tossed the Cannons book off his lap, rubbing his eyes. "Of course I am, yeah," he said. "I suppose I always figured he'd be the first person we'd tell, you know? I'm sure when we tell Mum and all of them it'll start to feel more real."

Ginny hummed, twisting a piece of carpet between the tips of her fingers. "I dunno," she said lightly. "D'you ever, I don't know, look in the mirror and feel, like, _confronted_ with your own existence?"

Ron snorted. "What?"

"Humour me," Ginny said with another small smile. "Mostly I pass the mirror in the hall and just, you know, fix my hair or whatever, but sometimes I catch my reflection, and I realize that my entire world is just contained inside of me and there's nothing essential to myself, just thoughts and feelings, and that the person I am to you is different than the person I am to Harry, that none of it is actually real, or true?"

Her brother stared down at her, open-mouthed, before narrowing his eyes. "Hang on, did George give you one of those 'special' Chocolate Frogs that Lee was going on about? Because he swore if he got ahold of them he'd bag some for me, too-"

"I'm not high," Ginny said. "I'm just… that's what it's like having kids, alright? Sometimes it's really mundane, like, Merlin, the sheer number of jam sandwiches I've made in the last year alone. But then there are times that you look at them, and it really hits you, that they're these entire _people_ that you've _made_."

She stopped for a minute, and took a deep breath. "James and Albus are these bits of Harry that _lived_ in my body, they're both so much like him, but they came out of _me_ and it's just completely mental when I stop and actually think about it, and part of me just thinks it'll never feel completely real."

Ron was looking at her a bit funny, which Ginny supposed was fair. He cleared his throat. "I still think I'd prefer to wait to read the book."

Ginny nodded. "You're going to be a good parent," she said softly.

He smiled. "Thanks," he said. "Any advice?"

Ginny snorted. "Try to figure out your work-life balance before you have two kids under three."

Ron sighed, and glanced out the window. "That bad, huh?" he said.

Ginny followed his gaze, but the sky was so dark there was little to see. "I mean, it's my fault, really. I don't think I realized how much I would miss Quidditch," she said. "And I guess, since you and Neville both left… I guess a very small part of me thought he might cool off the Ministry after James. Stupid, really."

She looked back to see her brother staring at her intently. "Not really."

"Well, I knew he'd never be able to [that's all folks :(]


	8. Found

A/N: Eventually, Harry would've escaped (duh) and Ginny, Ron, and George come to collect him from the American wizarding hospital. This is all I have of that bit, which is actually the first bit I wrote of this story, over two years ago! It's like barely a narrative.

* * *

The first thing, the _only_ thing, Harry could register was pain. It consumed him, a dull burning that seemed to fill him so intensely that he was weighed him to the bed below. And then, with a small shock, Harry realized he was in a bed. It hardly helped with the pain, but at the least it was preferable to have a bearing on his surroundings.

He began to test his body, appendage by appendage, limb by limb, working his way, as he had in the days after the battle, when each step, each grasp, seemed borderline miraculous.

[more text yadda yadda yadda]

"George?" Harry asked, but the name exited his mouth sounding more like a rattled gasp than actual speech.

"Oh, fuck," George said, a look of terror flashing across his face as he dropped the magazine to the ground.

"Glad to see you too," Harry said, his voice hoarse but at least forming intelligible words.

"

[more text yadda yadda yadda]

Ginny clung to his hand as if it were a liferaft and she was adrift in the middle of the open ocean.

"Is the…" Harry's eyes stung and he cleared his throat again. "Is the baby alright?"

Ginny opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words could come as a massive sob suddenly escaped her lips. She leaned forwards and put her face over his hand, so that he could only see the back of her blazing head.

These were not the silent tears she had wept in the days after the battle, nor the happy ones that had cascaded down her cheeks when James had been born. These were ugly, broken sobs, and Harry wondered if this was, after nearly a decade of being together, the first time he'd seen her _really_ cry. He knew something horrible must've happened; perhaps she had miscarried after hearing of his disappearance, or maybe the baby had died being born. His heart broke again, thinking of Ginny suffering like that, without him, because of him.

He brought his hand out from under her, taking a moment to curse how weak he was, for simply lifting his arm took nearly all the strength he had. He sank his fingers into her hair, stroking her skull beneath it as she gasped on the bed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry, Ginny. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He needed to know what had happened; he was consumed with terrible anticipation. He didn't want to make her say it, but when she raised her head again to look at him her expression wasn't anguished, but tender. She raised her hand to wipe away a few tears while taking ragged breaths, before looking at Harry and managing to smile weakly.

"It's fine," she said, rubbing his arm gently. "He's fine. He's so beautiful, Harry. I thought - I thought James looked like you, but Al…."

"It's a boy?" Harry asked, feeling weaker than he had when he'd asked his first question.

Ginny's smile grew, her waxy face stretching into something that Harry couldn't describe as beautiful, but that seemed otherwise comforting; positively familiar, forgiving, loving, _good._ When Harry looked at her, he saw _home._

"It's a boy," she confirmed, gripping his hand even harder as she gazed down at him. "Albus Severus, just like you wanted. We'll get you home soon to see him. I promise, Harry."

Harry's throat felt stuck as he tried to imagine this new child, so foreign and yet _his_. He remembered the feeling, when he'd first held James, that he'd always known his son; that the most appropriate greeting for him would've been, ' _Oh, there you are.'_

But Al - _Albus_ \- had never come to exist like this in Harry's mind. Harry had considered the child without corporeal form, an idea rather than a being. He seemed distant, out of grasp. And at Ginny's suggestion that he would soon have to meet him, Harry could only feel terror.

"When - when was he born?" Harry asked, guilt and grief washing over him in equal measure. He was the worst, _the worst,_ father in the world.

"New Year's Day," Ginny said, running a thumb over the back of his hand. "Almost a month ago. Harry, sweetheart, we don't need to discuss all of this now. Rest, please."

Harry's stomach twisted again at her kind words, and he shook his head.

"I don't need rest," he said, attempting to push himself up, but his forearms floundered and he sank back to the pillows beneath him.


End file.
